The Other Side
by Mommints
Summary: The sequel to “Somewhere In Time” – time travel takes on a whole new meaning with this story. Ardeth reunites wthe woman of his heart but there are greater forces at work. Part 13 Finally...ArdethCece fluff but will it last? Please R&R! and shukran! :
1. Chapter 1

"_The Other Side"_

**_Disclaimer_**_The character of __Ardeth_ _Bay belongs to Stephen __Sommers__ and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. __This segment is a work of fiction. All the original characters are the creation and property of the author. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. _

_Rated: T_

_Thanks for the disclaimer Dawn, to Serena for the beta and to Dawn, Serena and Staci for always listening, especially when my muse went crazy…and thanks to The Kidd __Mdd__ and __SamIam__…_

_...this is for those who have so patiently waited for this, for those who wrote me emails asking for the next installment, for those who listened to my various idea's and ramblings...and for those who didn't lose faith in me. _

_Enjoy..._

_----------_

"_Each moment is a doorway to time travel. Being in this very moment and no other, time as we know it stops. You can Freeze-Frame and stop. Then you can make another choice. You can stay in the same holographic pattern or you can choose a different one."  
Sara __Paddison__The__ Hidden Power of the Heart_

_"Every man has his own destiny: the only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him."  
Henry Miller, __The__ Wisdom of the Heart _

"_Whenever I prepare for a journey I prepare as though for death. Should I never return, all is in __order.__"  
Katherine Mansfield_

"_Tell me it was real, __Kedar__. Tell me that I am not going insane. I do not know what I feel exactly, but I do know there is this urgent need to see her again."  
__Ardeth__ Bay to __Kedar__Ishaq__, "Somewhere In Time" _

_----------------------------_

**_So many _****_many_****_ years from now…_**

_She surmised from the muffled giggles and scuffling of small feet that she was being watched by six or seven young children and sighed, feeling slightly irritated from the intrusion._

_She had searched for this secluded spot, this resting place under a large flowering tree that was as far away as possible from her well meaning but meddlesome neighbors. She craved a few moments of blissful solitude so she could reflect on various stages of her life, and on those who she had come to care for so very much. She wanted time to think, to remember and analyze, especially since she had felt compelled to record everything in a journal for the generations to come._

_The problem was she was being pursued by the present younger generation with astonishing tenacity, but allotted them a small amount of understanding. After all, she was an oddity. A woman who had claimed she had traveled through time, and back again…she was a curiosity, and an endless source of fascination to children._

_She leaned her head back to let the golden rays of the sun warm her face, but peeked through her eyelashes to check on the progress of the small hunting party. True to form, the older children had pushed the smaller, younger ones back in a protective circle and the tallest one had stepped forward, hesitation mingled with bravery showing on his face._

_She sat up and gazed at the youngster in fond wonder, noting his height and weight; truly he was his grandfather's son, in looks and mannerisms and she found her first smile of the day. He would grow up to be fine young man, that's if she didn't kill him first for his impertinence._

"_Old woman?__ Are you…Cecelia Adams?" the boy called out in a voice traipsing on the edge of child and young adulthood. _

_Cecelia narrowed her eyes and glared at the boy, inwardly laughing when she saw his golden eyes widened in alarm. "Do you wish to live to see tomorrow?" she snarled, and abruptly waved him off. "Go away, boy, can't you see I'm trying to rest?"_

"_All I see is an old woman sitting under a tree," the boy replied honestly. Encouraged by his friends, he took another step closer and then looked down at his side, flashing his best friend a grateful smile. There was strength in numbers and surely she wouldn't dare attack them now...would she?_

_Cecelia leaned her head back again, and with a loud sigh of frustration, closed her eyes. She had been quite prepared to ignore the little pests, quite prepared indeed, until one of them did the most unusual thing; he bellowed._

"_Old woman!" the child roared, his dark eyes flashing with annoyance. "My friends and I wish to speak to you, please open your eyes and let us come over and sit down!"_

_Cecelia jerked her head down in surprise and wagged one finger at the boy. "You need to learn some manners. Why in all my life I have never heard a child…you would think you…you took lessons from your grandfather, I'll wager."_

_The first boy tried not to smile as he listened to Cecelia sputter. He nudged his friend and they both came a few steps closer. "We want to hear about how you traveled through time," he coaxed in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice. "We want to hear about the __Medjai__."_

_Memories from so long ago came crashing back in Cecelia's mind and she replied without thinking. "There is no such thing as __Medjai__, my dear boy."_

_Suddenly a little girl with a head full of dark, bouncy curls broke from the safety of the group, and trotted over to Cecelia on chubby, wobbly legs. She ignored her cohorts' urgent pleas for her return, and seemed more fascinated with how inviting Cecelia's lap looked. When she found Cecelia staring at her, she offered her a wet, baby toothed grin. Then with a soft giggle of happiness, she turned around, scooted backwards and sat down in Cecelia's lap. She wiggled a few times to get comfortable as her friends cheered from across the way._

_Cecelia rolled her eyes heavenwards in a silent prayer for divine deliverance; instead the rest of the children came running over and after much debate, ordering, and jostling, sat in a small half circle around her feet. The first boy, Cecelia noted, had given one of the best seats to a younger child and the gesture warmed Cecelia's heart; his had been a difficult birth and he had been a sickly babe. But with the help of his loving family and close friends, he had survived the first few tentative years of his life and had regained his health. His dark chocolate brown eyes shone with happiness and Cecelia couldn't help but reach out and touch his curly hair in reverence._

_"Tell us a story," the boy who had bellowed demanded. He stood next to his friend and had deferred his seat to a young girl, folding his arms across his chest in a gesture of impatience. "We want to hear about the __Medjai__ and their leader, __Ardeth__ Bay."_

_Cecelia had to wait for the enthusiastic acceptance of the boy's suggestion to die down, and then she held up one hand for silence. She purposely waited until every child's attention was focused on her, and as thoughts of having a few moments peace drifted away like seeds in the wind, she decided to grant their request. Perhaps after hearing the story, they would leave her in peace._

"_Some say that I traveled through a rift in time to meet my destiny," she began softly as the memories surfaced in her mind…_

_----------_

**_What came before_****_…_**

_Secretary Cecelia Adams had believed that a surprise business trip to Egypt to meet the famous Dr. __Zahi__Hawass__ and join the archeological dig cataloging recent discoveries in the Valley of the Golden Mummies had been a chance of a lifetime. And she had eagerly agreed to accompany her employer, Dr. Scott Weaver, on the trip, blissfully unaware of the doctor's true motives for the journey._

_When the truth was revealed two days into the trip that Scott was actually guiding the team towards the Temple of __Hathor__ in __Dendera__ so he could perform a cleansing ritual to rid himself of the cancer that was growing from within, his colleagues and friends rallied around him. They had devoted themselves to the quest to save Scott's life. _

_Resuming the journey, Cecelia and her party had unwittingly traveled through a portal in time, and landed in a world where desert warriors protected mankind from an ancient evil…_

…_where their leader was the charismatic and mysterious __Ardeth__ Bay…_

…_and where Cecelia learned that sometimes love can transcend time and space, reuniting two lost souls._

_The trip back to her world had been shrouded in confusion and fragmented memories, and Cecelia was placed in jail for disturbing the peace as she struggled to grasp what had happened. In the interrogation room she met the handsome and enigmatic Detective __Bijan__Rasheed-Mudawar__ and had been cleverly coerced into signing a confession that omitted the existence of __Ardeth__ Bay and the __Medjai__. Mentally drained and exhausted from the detective's intense questioning, Cecelia almost missed overhearing __Bijan's__ suspicious phone conversation that intrigued her inquisitive mind far more than it should. _

_Curious about the detective's abrupt and secretive behavior, Cecelia acted on a hunch and after being reunited with her college friends, Eric Hanover and Jamie Richards, they followed __Bijan__ through the streets of Cairo in a mad chase that ended with the startling revelation that Cecelia had been right all along the __Medjai__ do exist._

_Astonished to discover __Bijan's__ true identity, a Guardian for the portal of time between the two worlds, Cecelia and her friends accept his hastily given offer to stay at his home and in the weeks that followed, they formed an uneasy alliance in aiding __Sharif's__ recovery._

_Although Cecelia was at home in her world, she started to experience vivid dreams and feared for __Ardeth's__ life; she had to help him no matter the cost. Oblivious to the growing attraction between __Sharif__ and Jamie, or the friendship that blossomed between Eric and __Zayn__, Cecelia battled to keep her sanity just as she fought to keep the memory of __Ardeth__ alive in her heart. _

_She had dared to risk losing everything…her friends…her family…all that she held dear so she could save the one man who had so effortlessly captured her heart and soul with one searing kiss._

_----------_

_**Somewhere deep in the shadowy recesses of Jamie Richards' mind, she began to dream…**_

_The sound of her heartbeat seemed as loud as thunder as she struggled to overcome the paralyzing fear, slowly walking down the dimly lit antechamber. Cobwebs hung in thick, heavy curtains that were draped from corners and columns bearing silent tribute to the passing of time. The air was musty and ripe with the smell of death and decay. Dust particles danced like tiny fairies on an errant wind, kicked up by Jamie's feet as she continued towards an unknown destination. Several yards ahead she saw the flickering, feeble golden light that valiantly tried to pierce the gloom, and she reached out, skimming her fingertips across the stone walls for guidance. They danced across hieroglyphics and drawings that were dated over three thousand years old but Jamie was oblivious to the story they told. She remained focused on taking each step, trying to suppress the fear that stubbornly gripped her heart and refused to let go._

_An unexpected cold wind blew through the hallway and the torches housed in tarnished golden scones suddenly sputtered and blazed, casting macabre shadows on the walls. Jamie's eyes widened in shock when the shadows solidified, turning a seething mass of vapors into men; like solemn sentinels they lined the walkway but didn't challenge Jamie as she passed by. They kept their faces covered and eyes averted yet Jamie could feel the waves of sorrow emanating from them; their style of dress seemed vaguely familiar. _

_And then with startling clarity Jamie knew…_

_Despite any formal education in Egyptology, Jamie realized she was in an ancient burial chamber and when she passed by the last warrior, the torches stationed around a small raised platform flared to life, illuminating the body that rested there. She stopped walking and covered her mouth to stifle the cry of grief that welled up from her heart when she recognized the body. Suddenly she felt something touch her shoulder. She spun around and met the melancholy gaze of a warrior whose gray eyes sparkled with unshed tears._

_He reached for her even as his sadness tore at Jamie's heart and she whirled away from him, stumbling a few feet over to the platform. Despite the obvious signs of embalmment, she noted how the oils used highlighted the warrior's proud physique and called attention to the two long jagged scars that crossed his midsection…_

…_marks __that were__ still pink around the edges from the wounds that had taken his life._

"_Oh God," Jamie whispered and shook her head in disbelief. "__Sharif__…"_

_At the utterance of his earthly name, the warrior's eyes snapped open and he turned his head, instantly impaling Jamie with the intensity of his stare. Regret and confusion were among the turbulent emotions that danced across his face as he struggled to sit up, but lacked the strength to do so. Frustrated, he fell back and reached out with one hand in entreaty…a hand covered with the fading marks of his tribe. _

"_Musa'adi__…__ana__…" he managed to rasp after a few moments. (help me)_

_Jamie shook her head. "I don't understand," she whispered and impulsively reached out to touch him. Their hands were only a few inches apart when a startling and gruesome metamorphosis swept over __Sharif's__ body._

"_M-m-__usa'adi__…__ana__…__ajab__!"__Sharif__ begged. (help me please) _

_In helpless horror Jamie watched as __Sharif's__ flesh shriveled and melted away until there was nothing left but long skeletal fingers that kept reaching…trying to touch her…_

_Jamie opened her mouth and screamed._

_----------_

**Base camp within the triangle of ****Abydos****Dendera****, and the West Bank of ****Luxor**

**Fifty miles south of the original gateway**

**1999 Day 4**

"I'm nuts," Eric Hanover muttered to himself as he dragged his arm across his forehead, missing the other tiny rivulets of perspiration that meandered down his face and neck. He gingerly plucked his soaked cotton tee shirt from his body and pulled it a few times, as if that action alone would cool his heated body.

"Yep, I'm a certified nut case," Eric stated a little louder and glanced in the dusty rearview mirror, wondering if his statement had gained any attention from the Land Rover's other two occupants. He resisted the urge to give a dramatic sigh when it appeared that neither Zayn nor Sharif was paying him any attention. But considering that their present condition was a mixture of frustration and exhaustion, he grimly concluded that conversation was the least of their concerns.

Eric had been dubious about assisting them from the first day Bijan had suggested it, but had caved in to the insatiable desire to know more. Cecelia's adventure into another world where she had been rescued from marauders by a desert warrior from a fictional tribe seemed fantastic and untrue, but Eric never doubted Cecelia's story for one moment.

He was a good and loyal friend, and had given Cece the time and space she needed to recover from her ordeal. Eric frowned from a sudden notion as he gunned the engine and climbed over a steep sandy incline. Cece wasn't recovering as quickly as he had hoped, and the dark circles under her eyes were worrisome as well as her lack of appetite.

Eric shifted the gears as he remembered Sharif's injuries had been slow healing as well. While taking him to the nearest hospital would have been the wisest course of action, Bijan had reminded them that stab wounds were reported to the authorities. He had no desire to draw any further attention to himself, or to the odd living arrangements that were now present in his modest home.

Sharif's recovery took three long weeks, and Eric knew that during that time his quest for knowledge about the other realm had often tested the boundaries of Bijan's patience. Intrigued by Sharif's stories of battling the undead and guarding the wealth of Egypt, he had coaxed Zayn into revealing more about their tribe than Bijan had originally permitted. On more than one occasion Zayn was seen out in the courtyard trying to placate the aggravated older man. While Eric and Zayn discussed what limited knowledge there was regarding the rifts, Bijan brooded over that shared information and the women devoted themselves to helping Sharif.

Apparently learning about another world and its race of people was a big no-no in Bijan's book as Eric had surmised, but then again the detective had a long list of 'do not and do's' in his repertoire.

"The man probably folds his underwear, for God's sake," Eric muttered as his mind digressed and mentally listed all the faults he had found in dealing with Bijan.

"A Guardian must be organized, in a position of power, and be able to render decisions without lengthy deliberation," Zayn spoke up and leaned forward, his hand gripping the passenger seat's headrest.

Eric snorted and rolled his eyes. "You make Bijan sound like a friggin' boy scout."

Zayn blinked in confusion. "What is a boy scout?"

"Never mind," Eric sighed. He steered the SUV towards the north by northeast using the compass on the dashboard, and then glanced over at the Traveler. "So, you want to tell me what's going on? Or have you suddenly lost all of your love for your chauffer? Why the trip out to the middle of the desert? Who set up the camp that we stayed in, and what's wrong with Sharif? He looks wiped-out, kind of like he's fading and don't ask me why I said that, I just did and…"

Zayn held up one hand and stopped Eric's diatribe. He waited a few moments to gather his thoughts, struggling for a way to explain his actions from the past few days as well as internally wrestling with a startling revelation. "It appears that the rift will not open," he began.

Eric hooted with laughter and then quickly looked in the rearview mirror back at Sharif; thankfully the warrior was still asleep and seemed undisturbed by the outburst. "Tell me something I don't know," he murmured.

"That once I return to my village, I must speak to the Elders and request that they amend the chronicles, stating that the aperture between our worlds works randomly, without reason or cause. I had originally thought that by bringing Sharif back to where I believe we had exited our world his presence alone would have opened the portal. He should have been able to return home." Zayn shoved a hand through his thick unruly hair and glanced at Sharif.

"Should of but didn't. So, do you have any idea of what's wrong with him?" Eric's question finally broke the silence. He felt guilty for not investigating the strange and alarming weakness that plagued Sharif once they had settled in camp. But he had been too busy trying to figure out who had erected the tents, gave them fresh water each morning, and cooked their meals.

Zayn leaned back and stared at the passing landscape for a few moments, running his fingers down the grimy window as he contemplated his answer. "Commander Ishaq has such trust in me," he mused. "Yet I am an unseasoned guide if you compare my record of service to other Travelers."

"Is that your way of saying you have no idea?" Eric asked with a faint smile as he turned Rover onto a long gravel road.

Zayn smiled, but its joy never reached his eyes. "As you know, there are many theories," he began softly. "Some believe that the rift is controlled by a higher power, and opens only for what is meant to be."

"Destiny?"

Zayn nodded his head. "Others believe that we can control it, bend and shape it to our every whim. Sadly our research and knowledge about the rift is very limited, therefore my answer to your question must be based on my own conclusions and conjecture."

"Conject away," Eric said and waved a hand around the truck. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

Zayn smiled and shook his head at Eric's words. "You are, to use your own terminology, one strange dude."

"Ha! This coming from a man who travels back and forth between two worlds," Eric retorted.

Zayn grinned and suddenly decided to sit in the passenger seat. "In the chronicles, there are chapters that have been devoted to recording our vigilance of the rift," he said as he climbed over the console and arm rest. "There have been several scenarios suggested regarding possible problems that could arise over a period of time and are broken down into categories. Unfortunately the information is vague, if not confusing. However I do recall reading one passage, during my training, where it spoke of the consequences if a person from one realm where to be injured and pass into another."

"Yeah, but Sharif was injured in your world," Eric pointed out.

Zayn nodded his head as he settled into the seat. "True, but the passage reads, "One world is our birth and death, the other only to see our breath. If blood is spilt in another time, two cannot exist without reason or rhyme."

"Um, say what?" Eric asked, puzzled.

"Sharif was born in my world, and was injured prior to his passing. But he has also bled in this world and it is my belief that this is creating a pull on his physical as well as spiritual form. According to the passage it will be only a matter of time before his birth world seeks to completely reclaim him."

"I'm almost afraid to ask how will it reclaim him?" Eric inquired.

"By slowly drawing me back," Sharif stated softly as he pushed himself up, gently waving away Zayn's awkward assistance.

"Are you serious?" Eric murmured in disbelief as he divided his attention between watching the road and staring at Sharif's pale face in the rearview mirror.

Zayn turned around and reached into a small cooler, pulling out a bottle of water. He handed it to Sharif and fussed over the warrior for a few moments before turning back to Eric. "The dissolution of Sharif's body will start out gradually, and then increase in strength and occurrence."

"The attacks make me feel as if I am being torn in two by an unseen force; it hurts to think or breathe. And when they are done, I feel weaker, as if I am vanishing," Sharif clarified.

"Eventually Sharif will disappear from this world," Zayn said. "However I do not know if he will be alive once the transition is complete."

"Damn," Eric muttered. "Talk about not messing around in between the two worlds."

Zayn turned to Sharif, the guilt he felt for what he had done showing in the expression on his face. "SamaH ana," he said earnestly. "I only thought to help you; I never meant to complicate the situation."

"There is no need to apologize," Sharif replied. "You saved my life and for that, I am very grateful."

"I have brought you into this world without regard for the consequences," Zayn stated.

"If you hold no regard for your actions, then why are you still attempting to return me home?" Sharif asked quietly as he looked the younger man. "You question your skill as a traveler yet for myself, I have no doubts."

"The only person I know of that will have doubts about returning Sharif to Cairo will be Bijan," Eric said and glanced over at Zayn. He inwardly cringed when he saw the apprehension flicker in the young man's eyes and gave himself a good mental kick in the butt for mentioning the growing tension between the two men. "Um, what I mean to say is that Bijan…erm, he may not be…"

Zayn waved off Eric's stammering with a faint smile of understanding. "My failure in completing my assigned task will remind Bijan yet again why he believes I was never meant to be a Traveler."

"Sorry, Zayn," Eric lamely offered.

"There is no need to apologize," Zayn said as he contemplated Eric's observations about the detective that he heard in the camp. According to Eric, Bijan was stubborn, moody, harsh, and unforgiving. "You are far more astute than you lead us to originally believe, and your comments about Bijan were quite accurate."

Eric peered out of the front window and stared at the weathered sign by the road side that indicated how many miles till they reached the city. "Well it's a habit of mine to observe people, but since we're on the subject, Bijan's just prickly about temporarily living with Cece under one roof. And if I know my friend the way I think I do, I'll bet she's reminding him of what he did whenever she can. I just hope that bringing Sharif back won't compound any issues."

"Tell me more about Jamie," Sharif asked softly and knew he had surprised Eric with his interest. He tried to recall the vague memories of when she had tended to him, and the tenderness of her touch. Hazy recollections showed him a young woman with a heart shaped face, hair colored like the sun and mesmerizing eyes that were as green as fresh leaves. But it had been her hands that had captured his attention during the long hours of the night when they had soothed his fevered body.

Delicate looking hands that held so much strength…

"'Imil ma mush Rarbi fa'inn shu intu byimkinni malak," Zayn stated firmly to the warrior. (Do not wish for what you cannot have)

Sharif's amber eyes darkened with anger for a moment and then a wistful smiled danced across his face. "La wakhri, ya saHib," he murmured. (too late)

"Hullllooooo," Eric waved at both men. "English speaking friend here, remember?"

Zayn seized the chance for some levity and pretended to look perplexed. "I cannot seem to recall who you are," he thoughtfully tapped his chin and then turned to Sharif, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. "Do you know who this man is?"

Sharif struggled not to smile, grateful for the change in topic. "I have never seen him before in my life," he said solemnly.

"Suddenly everyone is a comedian," Eric huffed and gunned the engine as he maneuvered around a small cart abandoned on the side of the road. "I volunteered to learn your language but Zayn said there was no need, that both you guys knew enough English and that…"

"He is doing it again," Zayn gave a dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes, thoroughly enjoying Eric's discomfort.

"SamaH ana, ya saHib." Sharif smoothly interrupted Eric's tirade. He grew thoughtful for a few moments as he recalled the days spent in the other man's company, and believed that a good and loyal heart lurked beneath the jovial façade Eric always used as a shield. "It is quite simple to lapse back into the native tongue of my homeland; I miss it very much and was not thinking."

"So teach me your language and I'll give you all you want to know about Jamie," Eric said with a devilish grin.

"I want no part of this," Zayn waved off the two men and turned his attention back towards the passing landscape. He grew quiet and pensive when he realized he would be facing Bijan later in the day; how would he explain Sharif's presence?

"Ana qibil," Sharif said.

"English?"

"I accept," the warrior clarified. "Now tell me, Eric, are you in love with Jamie?"


	2. Part II

****

_**Disclaimer**: __The character of __Ardeth_ _Bay and the Medjai belongs to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. __This segment is a work of fiction. All the original characters are the creation and property of the author. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. _

_Rated: T_

_-------------------------------------------------_

**_Late June 1925_ _Egypt_**

**_The Guardians Citadel "Il _****_Wasi_****_Qal'a_****_"_**

**_Private bathing quarters of Lady _****_Dareejah_****_Rishik_****_ Bay_**

_**Mid-afternoon**_

Kedar Ishaq stood on the tiled threshold leading to the private bathing pool and hesitated, listening to the soft sounds of running water, light feminine laughter, and the occasional note or two of music. He glanced down at his bare chest, gleaming from his recent sparring exercise, to the worn but suitable baggy pants and scuffed leather boots; he was certainly not dressed for the occasion.

Then again, as a sardonic smile graced his mustached lips, he wasn't invited, he had been summoned. And his warrior brethren knew how much he hated to be summoned. With relish, he pushed against the large double doors and his smile widened when they crashed against the wall with a resounding boom. He heard the female attendants gasp and a few of them actually squeaked in surprise when he sauntered into the bathing area; they scattered like flower petals thrown into the wind and disappeared. Left alone with the esteemed lady was something that Kedar never wanted to be but he had little choice in the matter.

"I was informed that you wished to see me, Lady Dareejah," Kedar stated as his dark gaze swept over the large personal bathing pool, watching the older woman languidly treading water. Her lack of modesty astonished him but his response was to fold his arms over his chest in a gesture made to intimidate.

"Keeee-dar," Dareejah hummed. She was completely naked as she floated on her back, and occasionally she lifted one slender arm, displaying her lush bosom, as it peeked above the waterline. The pretty pout on her face warned Kedar that there was far more to this unorthodox meeting than Dareejah's continual hunt for compliments about her figure.

"Kedar, my nephew's most trusted friend," she cooed and gracefully swam towards the pool's steps. "Come join me. You look hot and tired, and in dire need of pampering." She stopped at the first one and slowly rose out of the water with a knowing smile on her face as tiny rivers of water ran down her body, emphasizing its generous and pleasing curves. Like a water siren or nymph, she held out one hand, silently beckoning the handsome warrior to come join her.

Stories told around the harems credited the commander with being an exceptional lover; they spoke of the long sultry nights, rumpled bed linens, and the stamina of a stallion. Dareejah subconsciously licked her lips in anticipation, confident in her feminine skills and wiles, admiring Kedar's strong muscular body. She had secretly longed for a taste of the raw power that simmered beneath the warrior's exterior, and forming an alliance with the commander would prove to be most beneficial.

"La, I am fine here," Kedar stated emphatically. "What is it that you want? I was in the middle of the Trial by Sword and Hand for Ardeth."

"Aiwa, aiwa," Dareejah snapped and waved her hand impatiently, irritated by his refusal. Her eyes narrowed as she realized her prey was going to be harder to ensnare than she had anticipated. "I know of your little warrior game, and was hesitant to interrupt, but I must speak to you of an important matter."

Kedar raised an eyebrow. "A matter more important than the well being of your nephew?" he asked in a mocking tone of voice, knowing how Dareejah felt about his best friend. "This trial is to test the strength and agility of his arm and shoulder, wounded from…"

"I know what happened to him," Dareejah impatiently interrupted as she slinked up the stone steps and started stalking Kedar. Each move, each step was orchestrated to arouse him, and Dareejah relied heavily on her acting skills, confident that Kedar would fall into her trap. "I was, of course, concerned about his rehabilitation and am quite pleased that you had suggested this test for him. We need Ardeth to resume his leadership of our people with sound mind and body."

Kedar resisted the urge to give a heavy sigh as Dareejah's hands came up and slicked her hair back, the movement thrusting her breasts forward for display. His temper simmered for a moment when he realized her game and then a devilish glint came into his eyes; he reached over to a stone bench and grabbed a large, soft towel.

"Here," he said as he threw the towel at her, stifling his laughter when it hit her in the face and chest. "We also need you, the beautiful and captivating Aunt, to be of sound mind and body as well. We cannot have you getting sick, now can we?"

Dareejah's temper spiked as she pulled the towel down from her face, but she refused to be defeated; slyly she used it as another tool. She wrapped it around her body and before Kedar could react, glided over to his body to lean against it. "Such a thoughtful bero," she murmured as she seductively wiggled around. "I was beginning to have doubts that our meeting would produce anything but animosity and mistrust."

Kedar gripped Dareejah's arms to stop her from dancing around, his eyes flashing dark with anger. "What do you want, ya sitti?" he growled, his patience at an end, completely unaffected by her amorous actions.

"I want you to think," Dareejah sighed dramatically and turned around so her backside brushed against Kedar's muscular thighs. She felt it beneath her to have to dance like a whore for the commander, but everything Dareejah did was for a purpose. "I want you to think about a world, so very much like our own, without Ardeth," she continued in a whisper.

Kedar stiffened at her words. "What do you mean?"

Dareejah's tinkling laughter filled the grotto and she danced again, shamelessly rubbing against the warrior. "Ardeth is preoccupied with his little time traveler; he no longer rules with a clear heart and mind. He longs for someone that cannot be his and the Elders have noticed this disturbing change. They are justifiably concerned. He is not fit to rule the Medjai, and as his aunt, I fear for his mental as well as physical well being."

Kedar grabbed Dareejah's shoulders and spun her around. "You have coveted his position since you murdered your husband over a year ago. You will not harm Ardeth, on my oath I swear this to you, or you will answer to my blade," he growled.

Dareejah laughed again, delighted in Kedar's outburst, and delicately shivered from his raw power. "I merely present to you a scenario: life without Ardeth," she stated. "I ask for you to think once more. He is deep within the labyrinth beneath the warrior's sanctum, fighting against those that would kill him because they believe in a shared vision. Will you stay and let fate take its course, or will you rush to save someone who does not wish to be saved?"

"Iblis mara," Kedar snarled and shook Dareejah like a doll. "What have you done?"

"I have done nothing but offer my theories," Dareejah said with a wicked smile. She gripped the edges of the towel and opened it, exposing her body once again. "I can give you so much more, bero, all you have to do is take…take me…come with me and share my bed, and I will give you more power than you have ever dreamed of."

"Abadan! (never)" Kedar thundered and shoved Dareejah away from him in disgust. He pulled the short dagger from its sheath at his side, and for one frightening moment he envisioned plunging it into Dareejah's black heart for her treachery.

Dareejah stumbled back and fell into a heap at Kedar's feet, laughing manically as she watched him fight for control. "The future of the Medjai is at hand," she chortled. "The conclusion to the Trial by Sword and Hand will go as planned, and a new life will be waiting for us all."

"Ardeth," Kedar breathed in horror. "If he dies, you die," he vowed and pointed the dagger at Dareejah.

"Run, bero, run!" Dareejah shouted and pushed up to a sitting position, unafraid of Kedar's threat; all the pieces of the game were beginning to fall into place. "The future you dare not dream of is almost at hand, and you must make a choice."

Kedar cursed vehemently under his breath as he raced out of the bathing room while Dareejah's mocking laugher rang in his ears. He was amazed at how bold she had grown over the past few weeks, but had never considered her actions to be threatening until now.

And he cursed again when he realized it would be his word against hers…

----------------------------------------------------

Ardeth dove around the corner of one stone column and into the shadows, his chest heaving from his exertion. He landed in a crouch and struggled to keep his breath contained, straining to hear if his opponent was approaching. He switched hands for his scimitar and pulled out the small sharp dagger tucked in his boot, determined to use any means necessary to sway the trial in his favor.

Caving in to the burning pain radiating from his shoulder for a moment, Ardeth leaned his head against the cold stone and licked his dry lips, wishing for a cool drink of water. With a rueful grin he realized either the standards for the trial had grown more difficult, or he was getting far too old to continue participating.

Jameel had been his first opponent, and had attacked him as soon as he had passed through the gates, hoping to catch him unawares. Skill and a higher expertise level were Ardeth's advantages, and usually he would have been able to best Jameel in a sparring session. But this time he outmaneuvered the younger warrior not with a dazzling display of swordsmanship, but his capability of executing a hasty retreat.

It bothered Ardeth that in order to escape Jameel's precisely directed hit he had to run, but he didn't have the chance to reflect on that encounter. He met Dharr and Solman several aisles later and the two warriors rushed him with a two pronged attack, scimitars whistling in the air as they arced towards his head.

Disarming Solman had taken longer than Dharr, and blocking the forceful blows from the young massive warrior made Ardeth's entire body ache. Eventually he won that meeting and proceeded towards the center of the maze and his prize, ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder.

Ardeth refused to submit to it, just as he had stubbornly refused to rest for another week as the healers had suggested while his body continued its recuperation. He needed to do something to repress the growing restlessness that set his body on edge, and kept him awake at night. He needed a diversion to rid his mind of a face that haunted his dreams, and of a kiss that still lingered on his lips, a sweetness that made him crave her even more.

_Cecelia…_

Suddenly Ardeth was helplessly propelled several feet from a hard blow to the back, and rolled with the momentum, bouncing to his feet. He spun around and squared his shoulders, ready to face his new adversary, confident that the outcome of this encounter would be in his favor. He balanced on the balls of his feet, ignoring the sweat that trickled down the side of his face as his eyes narrowed in concentration. His mind ticked off the possibilities of the warrior's identity, but he certainly wasn't prepared for Makin confidently emerging from the shadows.

"Muqaddas Yaha," Ardeth muttered. (Holy shit)

Standing at six foot five inches, and possibly weighing more than Berin, Makin Siraj-Haatim was an intimidating young warrior; what he lacked in years and wisdom, he compensated for with tenacity. He flexed his highly developed shoulders and arms, carefully watching Ardeth as he slowly walked in a circle, most likely waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Ardeth grinned, despite his fatigue, and decided to challenge the young warrior. He switched his scimitar to his other hand, and threw his dagger in the air as a distraction, knowing Makin would watch it twirl end over handle. Suddenly he lunged.

Makin reacted with blinding speed despite his great size, and parried Ardeth's thrust with a powerful blow of his own; it almost brought Ardeth to his knees. He spun around, and smacked Ardeth's shoulder, catching him off balance and the chieftain was forced to perform the graceless act of keeping his stability by wind milling his arms for a few moments.

Ardeth's smile flattened out into a grim line of annoyance as he whirled around to face Makin again. He ignored the impulse to massage his sore shoulder, and then decided to try a new tactic. "ir-raHman Allah, that hurt," he stated in wonder.

Makin blinked in surprise and then immediately looked contrite. "SamaH ana, ya ra'is but I was...I never meant to…"

"Ha!" Ardeth shouted and attacked with the velocity of striking cobra; his blade whistled through the air as he pivoted his wrist, ready to tap Makin's exposed side for a point. He went sailing through the air a moment later but twisted his body, managing to scour the hilt of his weapon down Makin's thigh. He hit the ground hard, but ignored his body's complaints and sprang to his feet. He spun around, ready to block another attack but Makin's shout of laughter made him stop.

"You have a point," the young warrior grinned as he advanced on Ardeth, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously. "But then again, so do I."

Ardeth snorted. "Do not be absurd. You could not have…" his voice faded away when Makin pointed to his thigh. He looked down and blinked in surprise when he saw the long streak of plant dye oozing down the fabric. He looked up at Makin as his astonishment turned into displeasure; they immediately began circling one another again.

"I am finding that I do not like you very much right now, bero."

"All is fair in the trial, ya ra'is."

"Who taught you how to counter my unusual attack?"

"Commander Ishaq."

Ardeth sighed. "I should have known. Remind me to kill him later. As for you…we end this now!"

Makin threw his weight to the side as Ardeth's blade whistled past his shoulder, and he went in low, slamming his forearm into Ardeth's ribs. Ardeth grunted from the pain but retaliated by jabbing the hilt of his sword into Makin's back twice, dancing away from the warrior's jab at the last moment.

It was for the second time that day that Ardeth found himself running from an opponent, but this time he savored the sweet taste of victory as he heard Makin proclaim his defeat. As he raced down the aisle and turned around the second to the last bend in the maze, he couldn't stop smiling.

By all that was holy, his body was sore and his shoulder was numb, but Ardeth was thoroughly enjoying each encounter. And if he had been a wise man, he would have kept his optimism until after the trial was over, and he had won.

They came in rapid succession after that as Ardeth moved closer and closer to the middle of the maze. The prize was almost within reach, but instead of thinking how he would spend his time visiting Rana's harem, he was hoping for a nice, long leisurely bath to ease his aching muscles.

Jericho was his next opponent, and while Ardeth would have never admitted it to anyone, it was becoming more difficult to win each match. Winded from his session with Jericho, Ardeth dove behind another grouping of crumbling columns and small boulders, trying to catch his breath.

He bent over and placed his hands on his knees as he tried to determine who he would meet next: Nabil? Kedar or Berin? Ardeth thought it odd that he had yet to face his childhood friend, but a strange sense of foreboding washed over him and he stood up, scimitar drawn and ready.

Someone was watching him.

Ardeth started to jog towards the next corner, but came to an abrupt halt when two large figures emerged from the shadows. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade as the two unknown warriors advanced towards him, the hilts of their weapons free from any plant dye. They wore their face coverings and when Ardeth called out a greeting, they remained silent lest the sound of their voices provide any clue to their identities.

Ardeth braced himself for the simultaneous attack and called on the last reserves of his strength; the trial meant to test his strength and agility had viciously turned into a fight for his life.

-----------------------------------------------------

"Why in the name of Allah would Dareejah flirt with you?" Nabil asked in confusion. He stood with Kedar near the end of the maze and thoughtfully rubbed his chin while the other warrior had quickly related his bizarre tale.

"She finds me irresistibly handsome and…" Kedar proclaimed, and then uttered a curse, glaring at his warrior brother in irritation. "Why she threw herself at me is not the issue; she threatened Ardeth's life and we must find him before anyone else does."

"Agreed, but do you realize how big this maze is? Searching for him would take days, not to mention we do not know which pathway he chose," Nabil said as they started walking out towards the end of the aisle.

"If I have estimated the time correctly, Ardeth would be near the west end, past the gates and close to the…"

The sound of metal clashing against metal drew the warriors' attention, and they both started running, fearful that Dareejah's daring plan would be successful. And they would not only lose their chieftain but their friend as well.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Ardeth leaped to one side, but that maneuver left him exposed; he groaned from the pain when a fist punched his sore ribs but concentrated on avoiding the scimitar that whistled dangerously close to his ear. He rolled on the ground and regained his footing, bringing his scimitar above his head to block a thrust meant to decapitate. He dove again, and grabbed a handful of sand; all was fair in the trial and he needed to exploit any advantage. He threw it and faintly smiled when he heard a howl of pain; the smile faded when the other warrior retaliated for his fallen partner.

Pain exploded in the back of Ardeth's skull and his scimitar fell from his hand as he pitched forward, landing on his hands and knees as stars danced before his eyes. Thick forearms wrapped around his neck, jerking his body backwards as they slowly began squeezing the air from his lungs. Ardeth wildly fought with all his strength to break the hold.

But it was a losing battle, and as the blackness nipping at the edges of his vision grew, Ardeth felt the first taste of fear mingle with the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He strained to reach the second dagger hidden in his boot as his back and shoulder screamed in protest. The arms tightened and Ardeth almost blacked out; suddenly another large object hit them, tumbling chieftain and assassin to the ground.

Exhausted, Ardeth rolled to away from the threat even as he drew in breath after ragged breath of life giving oxygen. He coughed as he pushed up to his knees and when he raised his head, his eyes widened in astonishment when he recognized what had hit him.

Berin.

Berin al Usama, in all his lethal and terrible glory, was casually dispatching the first assassin with a twist of his hands. The loud crack of the neck echoed through the ringing in Ardeth's ears and the killer's body fell to the ground, landing with a heavy thud.

"Behind you!" Ardeth croaked as the second assassin tried to stab Berin through the heart.

Berin reacted instantly and rolled away from his attacker, fluidly pulling his dagger free and throwing it. It sailed through the air and buried itself in the other warrior's chest with deadly accuracy. The warrior's eyes widened in astonishment as bloody foam bubbled out of his mouth; he pitched forward and landed in a heap at Berin's feet.

Berin knelt down and grabbed the edges of the dying warrior's robe with one hand, with the other he ripped off the face covering so all would know his identity and treachery. "Why?" he hissed, his eyes black with fury. "Why attack your chieftain? Who hired you? Tell me, and I may take pity on you…"

The assassin smiled even as the life faded from his eyes. "All…will…change…all…willll…" the last word ended on a whisper as the warrior breathed his last.

Berin released the dead man in disgust and looked over at Ardeth, immediately rushing to his side. "Sahil…sahil, let me look at your wounds, ya sahib," the massive warrior crooned.

The metamorphosis in Berin's demeanor was a bit disconcerting for Ardeth, and for a few moments it was hard to grasp that the man who gently cleaned the blood from the back of his head was the same man who had easily killed two men. "I am…fine," he said weakly, fighting the overwhelming urge to sleep.

"Of course you are," Berin stated with unusual humor. He helped Ardeth up into a sitting position as he continued checking his wounds; an angry bellow moments later informed him that Kedar had arrived.

"Is it me…or is Kedar getting…louder as he…gets older?" Ardeth softly asked as Kedar and Nabil came across the bodies of the traitors.

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_A/N - thanks for the reviews, and I apologize for the short chapter but there's more coming...laws yes, lots more. Enjoy! _


	3. Part III

_**Disclaimer: The character of Ardeth Bay and the Medjai belongs to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. This segment is a work of fiction. All the original characters are the creation and property of the author. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. **_

_**Rated: T**_

**_A/N - enjoy the longer chappie to make up for the previous shorter one. :) _**

**_-------------------------------------------------------_**

**_Bijan's Home_**

**_Cairo, El _****_Saiyida_****_Zeinab_****_ District_**

**_El Sad El _****_Barran_****_ St_**

_**1999 a few days later…afternoon**_

"_Are you going to help him?" _

_Jamie ignored Cecelia's question for a moment and pushed aside the linen curtain from the large window, gazing out into the lush courtyard that was centered in __Bijan's__ home. She watched with a sinking heart as __Sharif__ stumbled over to a wooden bench, and swayed for a moment before sitting down. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees and hung his head, taking in large draughts of air. _

_Jamie knew that he was stubbornly battling the debilitating weakness that continually plagued him and her first instinct was to run outside and help him. Attempts to ease his pain in the past had been politely but firmly rebuffed, but Jamie had to wonder if his actions were orchestrated by __Bijan's__ orders rather than the warrior's preference. _

_Signs of __Sharif's__ suffering were rapidly becoming a common occurrence in the household, and it was a topic rarely discussed in __Bijan's__ presence, which infuriated Cecelia. In her opinion this was simply another facet of life that __Bijan__ seemingly chose to ignore, like the existence of the __Medjai_

"_I'm going to try; I just have no idea how," Jamie said as she continued watching __Sharif__ out in the garden and sighed in relief when he leaned back on the bench. Apparently the seizure had been a small and manageable one. _

"_You like him, don't you?"_

_Cecelia's softly asked question took Jamie by surprise and she turned to face her dearest friend, unable to lie. "It's more than that," she whispered with a sad smile. "I feel this…this connection with him, and I know he feels it as well; we just don't talk about it."_

_Cecelia blinked in surprise. "You love him," she concluded._

_Jamie nodded her head. "I have no idea how it happened, but I'm determined to help him get better. The main problem, among many, is that __Sharif__ is too darn stubborn and won't listen to me. He denies feeling ill, and doesn't want to talk about it."_

_Cecelia shook her head and folded her arms across her chest, irritated at all of the males in the household for their lack of compassion when dealing with the warrior's current health problem. "I'm honestly having a hard time trying to decide who's more stubborn: __Bijan__, since by the way, he left early this morning on an undisclosed trip, Eric for pretending everything is okay and acting like a fool, or __Zayn__ who rarely emerges from his room, and does so only to ask us what's for dinner and could we do another load of wash for him."_

_Jamie grinned and glanced over at her friend. "Are we going to launch into another enthralling discussion about the intelligence level of men?" she asked but the smile on her face faded when she realized something. "Did you say __Bijan__ went away?"_

_Cecelia nodded and peered over Jamie's shoulder, happy to see __Sharif__ resting under the cool shade of several large ferns and palm trees. She marveled at how the sunlight accentuated the tattoos on his face, and memories of another face framed by a neatly trimmed beard suddenly came to mind. Her heart whispered for the warrior who now roamed constantly through her thoughts and dreams, an unnerving fear always hovering in her mind that he was in danger. _

"_He left early this morning, without saying a word, but made sure we would see the long lists of instructions sitting on the kitchen table," she finally replied moments later. "I swear that man is more anal-retentive than your Aunt __Micky__. Say, does she still iron your uncle's handkerchiefs?"_

"_Yeah, some things don't change." Jamie smiled and released the curtain, letting it __fall__ back into place. "Maybe __Bijan__ is finally beginning to believe you about your dream," she said as she walked over to the dining room table and began sorting through several brown paper bags. She pulled out various containers of food and lifted the lids, peering at the contents. _

_Cecelia turned around and watched Jamie search for a small tray. "I doubt it. It doesn't matter how many times I tell him about my dream, or how much I stress that __Ardeth__ is in trouble…he won't listen. He said the dreams are a product of post-time travel stress or something stupid like that and my subconscious conjured them up."_

_Jamie paused from pouring a hearty broth into a small bowl. "You can sense it, can't you? Like this nagging, vague feeling in the back of your mind that something's not right, and you need to fix it right away."_

_Cecelia smiled and walked over to the table, idly poking through some of the containers. "Sorry, I almost forgot that you're also having some really weird dreams. Is it still the same one?"_

_Jamie nodded her head as she reached for another container. "It's getting worse, if that's possible. More vivid, like I'm truly there and it's frightening that I can't do anything. I wake up crying and shaking; I almost dread going to bed at night."_

"_Do you still dream of the warrior with the gray eyes?"_

"_Yeah and each time I do, he seems to get more…sad, if that's possible." Jamie crumpled up one bag and tossed it into the trash can, smiling when she made a perfect shot. "I think he's a friend of __Sharif's__, and that somehow he was hoping that I would be able to save him. Problem is I never do."_

_Cecelia grabbed a small glass from the cupboard and helped Jamie finish preparing the tray. "So, are you still upset that we missed our trip to Greece?" she asked softly as she folded a napkin._

_Jamie walked into the kitchen and fished around the drawers for some silverware. "Honestly, not so much any more," she said as she opened another drawer. "But in the beginning, between the car chase, finding __Sharif__ half dead in the alley, and learning about what really happened to you, all I wanted to do was leave. Take Eric and just go…fly to Greece and forget all about this nonsense."_

"_It's not nonsense," Cecelia murmured defensively out of habit. "The __Medjai__ are real, __Ardeth__ is real, and I have to find out if what passed between us is…"_

"_I know, I know," Jamie whispered and walked over to Cecelia's side with an apologetic smile on her face. "You have to find out if what you feel for this __hot,__ handsome desert warrior is what we all hope for in our lifetimes: true love. And love at first sight to boot. No wait, wasn't it __love__ at first gun shot? I forget."_

_Cecelia laughed and gratefully accepted Jamie's hug, profoundly glad to have her friends by her side. "I don't know what it was, but I hope to God I find out soon. The not-knowing is killing me."_

"_Hey, do I smell something cooking?" Eric popped his head into the room with a grin, but his smile immediately disappeared from the frigid looks he received from Cecelia and Jamie. "Oh, right. I forgot. We're still in the 'we hate all men except __Sharif__' mood. __My bad."_

"_Eric, go back to bed." Cecelia waved him off._

"_No, that's okay. Let him see and smell what could have been his," Jamie said with a wicked grin as she picked up the tray. She walked past him, letting the enticing aroma of the food waft up to his nostrils. "Serves him right for acting the way he does around here."_

_Eric gave a mock groan and smacked his forehead with one hand. "Wait, wait…__gimme__ a moment to remember what I am," he muttered and then brightened a moment later. "I got it. I'm a selfish, slovenly, insensitive jerk who only cares about what goes in my mouth, and how many bad jokes I can tell in less than one hour."_

"_Close," Jamie laughed as she walked out the sliding doors that led to the courtyard. "Keep practicing, you'll get it right one of these days."_

"_Ouch," Eric said and pretended to cover up an injury to his heart. He turned to Cecelia and the humor abruptly vanished from his eyes. "What about you? Still angry for the way I've been acting? Although I still don't think I'm doing anything wrong."_

_Cecelia sighed and threaded her fingers through her hair as she stared at the young man who she loved like a brother. "I guess we have been acting a little unfairly to both you and __Zayn__," she finally conceded but held up her hand to stop any comment from Eric. "But that doesn't mean we understand why you seem so indifferent to what's happening to __Sharif__. Or myself or Jamie for that matter."_

"_Damnit__Cece__, what do you want me to do?" Eric asked and held up his hands in mock surrender. "You don't think it's eating me up to see you two walking around like zombies from lack of sleep? To watch __Sharif__ slowly dissolve in front of my eyes and know there's not one thing I can do, except try to help __Zayn__ decipher ancient writing from some dusty manuals that __Bijan__ brought from a nearby museum? Hell, I didn't know how to read hieroglyphics before coming here, but now I'm a __friggin__' expert. I can't wait to list that on my resume."_

"_You're doing what?" __Cecelia's eyes widened in surprise._

_Eric walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, purposely ignoring Cecelia's question with the simple task, thereby allowing himself some time to calm down. He took a long drink and then promptly grimaced in disgust when the glass was empty. "Two words for __Bijan__ – bottled water. Man, that stuff tastes nasty. I'll bet it's right from the Nile and for all I know, I could be drinking crocodile __poo__poo__."_

"_Eric, you're digressing."_

"_Naw__, I'm avoiding because I let something slip that I wasn't supposed to."_

_Cecelia walked over to Eric's side and gently touched his arm. "What are you doing?" _

_Eric sighed and washed out the glass. "The night after we got back, __Zayn__ and I witnessed one of __Sharif's__ attacks, and it was pretty bad. Everyone else had gone to bed, and I was puttering around the living room, talking to __Zayn__Sharif__ walked in, said two words and then Bam! He went down for the count without a sound." Eric leaned his hands on the edge of the steel sink and gazed out of the window, his eyes focused on the images of that night. _

"_Oh my God, Jamie and I never knew," Cecelia whispered softly._

"_Both of you were asleep," Eric replied just as softly, distracted by the memories. "By the time we got to him, he was shaking, and groaning, and holding his stomach...Christ, __Cece__, I never saw anyone in so much pain before. I felt helpless, incompetent, and scared out of my wits, especially when __Sharif's__ body actually shimmered and faded for a few seconds. I wanted to grab him, but __Zayn__ said it was better that I didn't; I might have caused more harm than good."_

"_Why haven't you said anything? Why did you let Jamie and I carry on about your lack of interest with everything?" Cecelia asked. "I feel so stupid."_

_Eric smiled faintly and turned to face his best friend, frowning slightly at the dark circles under her eyes. "It was easier to let you both think whatever you wanted, rather than confess to you my childish fears."_

"_And what are your fears?"_

_Eric smiled and shook his head, playfully tickling Cecelia's chin with his fingertips. "Like I'm going to tell you?" he joked. "__Puh__-lease, my manly status around here has taken quite a beating in recent days. I don't think you want to hear what wakes me up in the middle of the night."_

_Cecelia smiled and pulled Eric into a hug feeling extremely thankful for her friends. She giggled when Eric made a slight fuss over the sentimental moment, but grew serious when she began thinking about what would have happened to her without them. "How did it happen, Eric?" she whispered and held him close. "How did my life get turned so upside down? I'm no longer the woman who left the United States a few weeks ago, and I seemed to be obsessed with a man that fundamentally doesn't exist." _

_Eric pulled back from Cecelia's embrace and affectionately caressed her cheek, the smile on his face slowly fading as he thought about the recent events in their lives. "__Ya__ know, I'm __gonna__ suggest something here, and if I say it correctly, I just might come off sounding like a very wise man."_

"_I'm all ears, oh wise one," Cecelia said with a slight bow. _

"_Tut__tut__," Eric tapped Cecelia's shoulders. "No need to get all formal on me, just keep an open mind."_

"_You got it."_

"_And stop giggling, you're ruining the moment."_

"_Sorry."_

_Eric gave Cecelia a mock glare of annoyance. "You don't sound very remorseful. But here's the thought: __didcha__ ever think that maybe you weren't living the life you were meant to have, and that you're meeting __Ardeth__ Bay could change all of that for the better? Maybe you were supposed to go through the portal, maybe you were supposed to get attacked and then rescued…"_

"_That's a lot of 'maybes'…"_

"_Maybe you were supposed to kiss him, who knows. But from what you've told me, it sounds to me like the two of you were destined to be together." _

_Cecelia put her hands on her hips and stared at Eric, puzzled by his idea. "So let me clarify something. Are you saying that the rift is something created by higher powers, and is a way of giving lost and separated souls a chance to be together? And that I met __Ardeth__ because it was either fate, coincidence or an unknown longing?**1**"_

"_Erm__, no that's your conclusion and a pretty decent one too," Eric chuckled. "All I'm saying is that you met Bay for a reason. It would be a shame if you never found out why." _

"_Okay." Cecelia wagged a finger at Eric as he started walking out of the kitchen. "Who are you and what __have__ you done with Eric Hanover?"_

_Eric threw up his hands in aggravation as he walked back to his room. "Everyone is a comedian around here," he muttered. _

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_**Late June 1925**_

_**Egypt**_

**_Base camp within the triangle of _****_Abydos_****_Dendera_****_, and the West Bank of _****_Luxor_**

_**Fifty miles south of the original gateway**_

_**1999 later that evening…**_

Silhouetted against the velvet canopy of the night sky, a lone warrior stood on the crest of the dune and faced the horizon, dark eyes scanning the surrounding landscape. While it would seem that his attention was focused on the small encampment below, his mind was actually thinking about a missing warrior brother and friend. Was he still alive or had his wounds claimed his life? Why had the Traveler taken such a costly risk by rescuing Sharif?

As an errant desert wind blew back the dark tendrils of hair from Makin's face, the young warrior sighed and lifted his gaze up to the heavens. Words at the moment failed him, and he felt even more helpless that he couldn't communicate to his fears to Allah; that he couldn't find it within him to say 'please help my brother.' By failing to pray for Sharif's life, Makin felt as if he was also letting down his best friend in his time of need. Tormented by the endless thoughts, self doubts, and questions, Makin knew sleep would be elusive this night as it had been for the previous nights.

Absently, he rubbed his side where the wound he had sustained several weeks ago tingled and itched; he had been shot by a raider on that fateful night the barranidinyi mara had come into their world. And ever since her arrival, life as Makin had once known it had irrevocably changed.

Talk among the warrior brethren and helper sects said the Elders were listening more carefully now to Lady Dareejah's ruminations about the lack of Ardeth's leadership. Sly innuendo and vague reference placed the blame of his faltering reign on the mara, Cecelia Adams, and the recent attempt on Ardeth's life served to emphasize Lady Dareejah's claims. Councilor Thias also seemed to be aiding the lady, although others noted he seemed less than enthusiastic in showing his support.

The attempt on Ardeth's life during the trial had served its purpose, and the Elders finally reached a compromise, hoping to appease Lady Dareejah's demand that Ardeth be released of his duties. They gave Ardeth thirty days to bring the warrior, Sharif Rafe and Traveler Zayn to the citadel, to prove that Miss Adams had safely returned to her world. If the barranidinyi mara was no longer living among them, then Ardeth would be granted an additional thirty days to rest and recuperate; he would resume his duties upon a review by the Elders, or have them revoked.

If revoked, the rumors were speculating that Lady Dareejah would perform something unprecedented, and petition to act as ruler of the Medjai until a more suitable candidate could be found.

Infuriated by Dareejah's maneuverings, Ardeth ordered Jericho to take Makin and Solman along with another Traveler through the rift to join the existing Medjai camp in the other world. There they met Jericho's friend, Emir Cohan, and learned from the captain that the guardian in Cairo had rescued Sharif and was taking care of him at his home. They would be leaving the camp tomorrow at dawn to meet the Guardian and finally bring Sharif back to his world.

Yet Makin had an unnerving premonition that something would happen…something would go wrong, and they would still end up losing Sharif.

"I miss ya saHib Sharif."

Solman's voice pulled Makin from his musings, and he turned to find his friend standing next to him holding out a small metal cup filled with steaming tea. "As do I," he murmured as he accepted it.

"Fear not, ya ukh, for he is being taken care of by an angel sent by Allah," Solman said with unerring simplicity. "We will see him soon."

Makin almost snorted on his first sip and looked over at Solman, sputtering in surprise. "How do you know this?" he asked.

Solman shrugged his broad shoulders and looked up at the starry sky, the expression on his face thoughtful. "I had a dream one night not so long ago, and it showed me many things. Some of which I do not understand, others whose meaning is now becoming clear."

"You had a dream showing you this?" Makin asked incredulously.

Solman looked at Makin with a soft, knowing smile on his face. "I am a simple man," he murmured and placed a hand on Makin's shoulder. "Sharif ya saHib…Makin ya saHib, Dharr ya saHib; it is all my heart knows. Maybe that is why I had the dream."

Makin's smiled in return and lifted the cup in a silent salute to the other warrior. "Then let us thank Allah for that dream and while we are at it, can you dream about me meeting a pretty young mara? I would like…"

The sound of laughter rolled down across the dunes and skipped across the land, easing troubled hearts for a few moments and allowing them to believe that all would be well in the end.

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**_The Guardians Citadel "Il _****_Wasi_****_Qal'a_****_"_**

**_Lady _****_Dareejah's_****_ private quarters_**

_**Midnight**_

Dareejah reclined on the small divan and watched with a bemused expression on her face as Thias paced in front of her, waving his hands in the air as he ranted and raved about her behavior. Truthfully, she heard every other word, and was actually concentrating on finding a tasty piece of fruit from the nearby bowl that would help appease her craving for something sweet.

"…of our carefully laid plans, and…are you listening to me?" Thias snapped and stopped in front of Dareejah. When he saw one dainty hand poised over the bowl, he swept it off the table with a strangled oath.

Dareejah arched an eyebrow as she watched the fruit roll across the floor. "Really, Thias, it is quite late at night for such theatrics," she said with a sigh. "And aiwa, I have been listening to you. How can I not? You have been shouting for the past half hour, and ya maHabbi, it is growing quite tiresome."

Thias felt his face flush from his temper but he sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

He knelt down in front of Dareejah, the position acting as an appeasement to Dareejah and giving her the illusion of control. He hated doing it but it was part of the means to an end, for now. "I want you to…_restrain_ yourself with your endless petitions to the Elders. And aiwa, I am using the word 'restrain'. Over the past several days, you have sent a deluge of papers suggesting everything from Ardeth abdicating the throne to holding re-elections for some of the Elders who have grown too old to be of further service. These requests are drawing more attention to you than necessary and when you finally do seize the throne, they will cast a suspicious light on your methods."

Dareejah blessed Thias with a dazzling smile and leaned forward, kissing him briefly on the cheek. "I am merely suggesting that the Elders consider a few ideas during this probation period. And I am also getting ready for a guest. In fact, he is due to arrive very soon…very soon."

Thias leaned back and watched with a puzzled expression on his face as Dareejah rose up from the divan and walked across the parlor. "Guest? Who in the name of Allah would be coming here for a visit…?"

A knock at the doors interrupted Thias' question and moments later, Dareejah received precisely the news she had been waiting for. "Please show him to the waiting room; Thias and I will be there shortly. Make him comfortable and treat him as if he is your sire, do you understand?"

The messenger bowed and quickly left to do his mistress' bidding. Dareejah closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, her eyes glowing with happiness.

"Dareejah, what have you done now?" Thias asked warily.

"Ija…ija with me and help me greet our guest. It has been a long time since he last walked these halls," she murmured and held out one hand.

Reluctantly and because he was curious, Thias allowed himself to be taken from the room and drawn into the formal sitting room where they found a young warrior standing in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the royal gardens.

"You came," Dareejah's soft almost motherly voice earned a look of astonishment from Thias but she ignored it as she slowly walked towards the warrior. She hesitated slightly when she saw that his dark brown eyes held a certain amount of guardedness, and he had kept his face covering up, his body stiff and formal.

"You sent me a letter," he replied in a voice that sounded eerily familiar to Thias; he had yet to reveal his face and the councilor took a few steps closer.

"He needs you," Dareejah said and stopped in front of the warrior, her hands resting on the broad planes of his chest. "I was afraid you would reply with a decline and I was so worried; truly I was. You and I did not have the best of relationships but I wish for us to be united in helping Ardeth."

"Ardeth has never needed help, and certainly has never needed mine," the warrior retorted and placed his hands over Dareejah's gently pushing them away. "My wife is expecting our first child within twelve weeks; your letter came at an extremely bad time. I am here only because of her, no more."

Dareejah clasped her hands and nodded her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "So I am to be a grandmother; I am so ashamed that I have never congratulated you. Can you not show me your face, so that I may kiss your cheek and offer my most sincere apologies for my horrendous behavior?"

The warrior sighed and to Thias' relief, he finally pulled down the covering, revealing a face that mirrored Ardeth's in almost every detail except one: the Bay Family crest had been tattooed on his throat.

"Ralon," Thias breathed in amazement.

Ralon Bay, the estranged cousin whose resemblance to the chieftain had caused more than its share of rifts, both good and bad, over the years as the men had grown up together…the embittered cousin who had claimed that Ardeth hindered the investigation into his father's death, and the eventual argument with him that drove Ralon away from all that he knew and loved…the mistrustful looking young man who yearned to be at peace with his older cousin but had lacked the courage to face him…until now.

Ralon stiffened when Dareejah kissed his cheek and he acknowledged Thias with a curt nod. "Tina said I should come and speak with Ardeth; I think she is hoping for reconciliation. I shall request an audience in the morning. Right now I wish to be shown to my quarters so that I may wash the dust from my body and rest."

"Of course," Dareejah clapped her hands, and while they waited for the attendants to appear, she fussed over Ralon while Thias looked on in amazement. "I am so glad you are here," she murmured as she gently touched Ralon's shoulder.

Thias had to hide his smirk when the warrior remained aloof and silent, seemingly indifferent to Dareejah's affectionate display. He had to cough to cover his laughter when Ralon was finally led to his chambers and Dareejah tried calling him son; his cool reply of wishing her a good evening almost made all of the trouble she had caused with the Elders worth it.

Once they were alone, Thias walked over to Dareejah who was staring thoughtfully at the closed door and decided to provoke his lover. "What are you thinking, my little spider?" he asked as he walked around her in a circle, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "The division between the once close cousins is as wide as the Sahara; how can you capitalize on that? How can Ralon assist us in what we want? He may hinder rather than help."

The smile that blossomed across Dareejah's face was as cold as the night in the desert. "Ralon will help us, I am certain of that; he may not realize it but he is the one thing that will drive Ardeth over the edge of reason. What better way to undermine Ardeth's unstable emotional well being than to bring back the man who believes he is responsible for his father's death? So much has gone unsaid between the cousins. I am merely acting as the good stepmother in trying to bring about resolution between the two of them."

"A resolution or dissolution?" Thias wondered.

Dareejah looked up at Thias as her wicked smile deepened. "Now what do you think, my dear councilor?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Bijan's_****_ home_**

**_Cairo, El _****_Saiyida_****_Zeinab_****_ District_**

**_El Sad El _****_Barran_****_ St_**

1999 evening 

"_What is this?"_

_Jamie smiled tentatively at __Sharif__ as she balanced the tray in one hand and dragged over a small table. "Lunch or dinner, depending on what time of the day you want it to be. I hope you like this. I ordered it from the small restaurant down the street and they claim it's just like Mom used to make."_

"_There is no need…" __Sharif__ started to object but Jamie seemed oblivious, and for a moment he was secretly glad. He had sensed a subtle yet definite change in their relationship once he had returned, and knew that __Bijan__ had been responsible for the growing separation._

_A division that included the other guests in the home as well…_

_Sharif__ had tried to wage a silent war against the dissection, his imposed solitude serving only to remind him of the past that could not be changed; memories of his parents and older brother long forgotten came back with startling clarity. And with it, old wounds once thought healed, opened up, spewing forth a deluge of loneliness and regret. Unable to live with the past, uncertain of his future, __Sharif__ had withdrawn from them all, only to be pursued by a small, beautiful woman determined to take care of him._

"_Uh, yeah there is a need," Jamie said as she quickly uncovered a few of the dishes. She was acutely aware that his amber colored eyes were intently watching her and that for the first time in a few days he actually seemed interested in eating. __Sharif's__ growing listlessness, as well as gradual weight loss, constantly worried both Cecelia and Jamie, so the trip to the restaurant had been a good but risky idea. _

"_And since I've never met your mother, I can only hope that the food is as good as they claim it to be," Jamie rambled on as __Sharif__ picked up a spoon and tentatively sipped the steaming broth. She smiled moments later when his eyes widened in surprise and he ate another spoonful. _

"_It is good…very good," __Sharif__ said. He savored the simple taste of the broth as he recalled the many meals shared with his parents. "__Ya __ume__ loves to cook and created as many different dishes as possible since she had three men to take care of in the household."_

_Jamie caught the underlining hint of sadness in __Sharif's__ voice when speaking of his family, and impulsively decided on something. Was __Sharif__ unguarded enough to continue talking? "What does __yaum__ mean? And who were the men? Obviously you and your father and…"_

"_It means 'my mother' and I have an older brother named __Sajid__." _

"_Oh," was all Jamie said as they lapsed back into silence. Clearly __Sharif__ had no desire to discuss his family and she didn't want to pry any more than she already had, although she wanted to ask more questions. Disappointed that a chance to get to know the warrior didn't turn out as she had hoped, she waited until __Sharif__ was done and silently collected the dishes. _

"_uSbur__shwaiyi__," __Sharif__ said and then immediately clarified when he saw Jamie's confused expression. "Wait a little, please. I wish to sit out here for a few minutes more and simply enjoy your company."_

"_Really?"__ Jamie gave __Sharif__ a brilliant smile and leaned back on the bench, marveling at how beautiful __Bijan's__ home truly was. "I like coming out here," she confided as she gazed at the surrounding foliage. "Who would have thought a detective would have such a green thumb?"_

"_The detective is many things," __Sharif__ stated enigmatically as he watched Jamie's enjoyment of the garden. "One should not always judge another by appearance." _

"_Is he your keeper or warden?" Jamie asked bluntly. Inwardly she winced from her boldness when __Sharif__ seemed astonished by her question. She mentally berated herself for her lack of finesse in dealing with __Sharif__ and despaired that they would ever be able to transcend polite but meaningless conversation. _

"_He is only concerned with my welfare," __Sharif__ started to explain._

"_He has an odd way of showing it," Jamie retorted. _

"_Bijan__ is following the directive set by his predecessors…"_

"_By keeping you a prisoner in his home!"_

"_I am not a prisoner, but a man who does not belong here," __Sharif__ clarified in response to Jamie's outburst. "Contact with those who inhabit this world must be kept to a minimum, or else the ramifications of my presence will forever change the fabric of their existence. The effect of what happens here today, tomorrow, or next week could be felt for generations to come."_

_Jamie leaned closer to __Sharif__, the frustrated tone in his voice almost breaking her heart. Her gaze roamed over his features, casting the images to memory so she would be comforted during the long lonely nights to come. She felt so sorry for him, having to exist with little or no contact with the outside world, knowing that his exile was depleting his proud warrior spirit. She saw the rare vulnerability flare up in his beautiful eyes and impulsively she reached up with one hand, caressing his cheek._

"_I understand the need for secrecy, I really do," she whispered as her fingers gently traced the edges of his facial tattoos. She heard his sharp intake of breath and grew bolder when his eyes darkened with desire. "I just don't believe that you have to live like a recluse during your time spent here. You could come out here to rest, or watch TV with Cecelia and me, or read one of __Bijan's__ many books. You just can't hide…"_

_Sharif__ stiffened from Jamie's words and they served as an effective dampener on the tumultuous feelings he had at the moment. Jamie was unlike any other maiden he had ever known. Truthfully he found her honesty and forthrightness appealing, but her actions were still considered bold and improper based upon his upbringing. And he reacted from those teachings. "I do not hide," he stated and abruptly stood up, halfheartedly escaping the tender feeling of Jamie's hand on his face. _

"_I didn't mean it like that," Jamie said as she stood up with __Sharif__. Her heartbeat doubled in rhythm as she caught a glimpse of the strong warrior he was, secretly reveling in the power she felt emanating from him. _

_Sharif__ leaned closer to Jamie, intoxicated by her nearness and by her light feminine scent that drifted up to his nostrils. He was mesmerized by the concern he saw in her eyes and took a deep breath, ingesting the sweet fragrance to keep with him always. "Why do you care?" he asked softly, changing the subject. _

_Jamie blinked in surprise at the question as tiny butterflies danced in her stomach from __Sharif's__ nearness. "Because I do," she answered lamely._

"_It is good to know the truth, but it is better to speak of palm trees,**2**" __Sharif__ murmured and gave in to the need to touch Jamie's hair; gently he tucked a few stray strands behind her ear._

"_Huh?" was Jamie's eloquent reply._

_Sharif__ smiled contemplatively. "We both know that I cannot take your suggestions to heart; I must obey my warrior vow and heed __Bijan's__ instructions. My time here is running out, and soon I will return home, although the method of travel is still in question. Is it not better to speak of happier things, than dwell on what might have been?"_

"_You mean avoid talking about what's happening to you, me and Cecelia? Talk about putting your head in the sand," Jamie said and shook her head. _

_Sharif__ leaned back and studied Jamie for a moment as he wrestled internally with a disappointing conclusion. Although she was intelligent and beautiful, Jamie was far too stubborn with her opinions and perceptions. Convincing her that __Bijan's__ suggestion for __Sharif__ to remain secluded from not only the rest of the guests but from the world as well had been a wise and difficult task. And one that __Sharif__ belatedly realized he had very little strength for. _

"_To know you __has__ been a joy, __soghairi__," __Sharif__ said as he stepped back. "Each day has been a blessing from Allah that I will cherish for the rest of my days, and the memories of you will sustain me through the long nights to come."_

"_You're saying goodbye?" Jamie asked bewilderedly and took a step towards __Sharif_

"_I am returning to my room, where I can bask in my solitude, or as you have so expressively referred to it, put my head in the sand," __Sharif__ said with a slight smile._

"_I think your head is full of more than just sand," Jamie snapped and folded her arms across her chest as she watched __Sharif__ walk away. "You just can't give up!" she shouted. _

_Jamie watched him slip through the sliding glass doors and when he finally disappeared from view, she whispered, "I won't let you." _

_-------------------------------------------------------------------_

_**1**- to correct Eric, this conclusion actually came from a person who had emailed me in the early stages of writing this story, and the email name was _**_SamIAm_**_. We bounced a few ideas back and forth about the rift between the worlds, and why Cecelia is so drawn to __Ardeth__ and this was the conclusion… and a darn good one too. So good that I had to use it in the story. __Lol _**_SamIAm_**_, wherever you are, my warriors and I say '__shukran__' for the help. So of course, giving credit where credit is due…_

…_thank you all for the reviews, they are so ever greatly appreciated. _

**_Soghairi_**_ – little one_

_**2**- It is good to know the truth, but it is better to speak of palm trees – Arabic proverb_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: The character of Ardeth Bay and the Medjai belongs to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. This segment is a work of fiction. All the original characters are the creation and property of the author. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. **_

_**Rated: T**_

**_----------------------------------------------------------_**

_**Late June 1925**_

_**Egypt**_

**_The Guardians Citadel "Il _****_Wasi_****_Qal'a_****_"_**

_**Royal study east wing**_

**_Two days _****_later _****_afternoon_**

Ralon stood on the small stone balcony situated outside of the library and leaned against the railing, lost in the memories of the past. He had spent the past two days wandering aimlessly through the courtyards and hallways of what he once considered to be his home only to discover it no longer felt welcoming.

It no longer felt like he belonged.

The happy and cherished memories of his youth spent with Ardeth were now tainted by his father's unsolved murder, and Ralon eagerly embraced the resentment that was festering in his heart. "Abu," he murmured sadly as his gaze swept over the city teeming with life. "Now more than ever I am in need of your wise counsel; why did I come here? I am haunted every waking moment from memories, and tormented by what I have been unable to do. I have yet to avenge your death…"

"Is that why you came here, Cousin? To redeem yourself in the eyes of Alhasan Bay, and our people, by bringing his murderer to justice?"

Ralon stiffened from the sound of Ardeth's voice and slowly turned around as a critical eye roamed over his cousin's appearance. Dareejah had not exaggerated about Ardeth's physical well being. He felt the tint of shame rush through his face for his previous behavior and yet it was mingled with the excitement of seeing him again.

An uncharacteristic weariness showed in Ardeth's eyes as he stiffly walked across the room, and Ralon could see he favored one arm. The lines in his face seemed more prominent and his broad shoulders were slightly stooped, as if he had just waged an insurmountable battle, and lost. Glimpses of the proud warrior that lurked beneath the royal demeanor came through in short intervals, but the man that stopped in front of him seemed to be more of an aloof stranger.

_Another reason to feel ashamed of his actions…_

He ignored the worrisome voice in his head telling him Ardeth did not look well and latched onto the old bitterness. "If only that were possible in such a short time. Granted you have had at least one year's worth of time to investigate and yet you still have not filed any formal charges. You dishonor the memory of my father, Cousin, with your inability to act."

Ardeth's eyes narrowed as he walked over and stood next to Ralon; he leaned against the railing and looked out over the city as well. "If you hate me so much, then I ask again – why did you come here? I thought you had finally been able to find peace with your American wife, Tina."

"Tina is the only reason why I returned; she wanted me to comply with Dareejah's request for a visit," Ralon replied. He hesitated, wanting desperately to have things the way they used to be between them, and hastily added on, "I do not hate you; I am just…disappointed in you. It seems like there are always more pressing issues than restarting the investigation into my father's death."

Ardeth sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the wistful tone in Ralon's voice not lost on him. "The inquiry into Alhasan's death was never concluded," he stated softly, wondering why Ralon had always refused to believe that fact. "But I will gladly admit that I have been remiss in my duties…"

"The inquisition was ended by you," Ralon snapped impatiently and turned away from Ardeth, pacing the small stone area. "You agreed with the Elders that there was insufficient evidence for a conviction."

"I did no such thing."

Ralon strode over to Ardeth, jabbing his finger into the air as the notorious Bay temper flared. "It was recorded in a public document…"

"One that I have previously stated, on numerous occasions, that I have never seen."

"Your signature is at the bottom."

"Then it is a forgery for I would have never signed…"

"You lie! This is another pitiful attempt to assuage your guilt and cleanse yourself of any wrong doing."

The two warriors squared off in front of one another like two infuriated bulls; fists were clenched, chests were heaving, and eyes were flashing with more than just rage.

"I do not lie," Ardeth growled each word. "Strong words coming from a man who could not stay and face his demons, but chose to run like a coward."

"I did not run. I left the city in order to escape the glaring inadequacy of its ruler. Dareejah was right; you have grown arrogant and overconfident in your old age," Ralon stated disgustedly.

"And you are a fool for listening to a woman who undermines my authority and feeds you lie after lie," Ardeth spat.

"I may be many things, ya ra'is, but I assure you I do not lie," Dareejah called out as she sailed out on to the stone balcony with two Elders in tow, and her constant shadow, Councilor Thias.

"Ardeth, what in the name of Allah is going on?" asked Elder Izz al Din as he walked over to the warrior and placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "We could hear this…this _discussion_ out in the central courtyard."

"Ralon and I were merely conferring about family matters," Ardeth replied and then gave a respectful nod to the other Elders.

"A talk that it would seem is long over due," Thias boomed and clapped Ralon on the shoulder, the jovial smile on his face fading slightly from the warrior's cold glare.

"It is my fault," Dareejah clasped her hands and turned to the Elders with a beseeching expression on her face. "I will readily admit that I lied to both Ardeth and Ralon so that they would coincidentally meet one another here today. I had hoped that by giving them a chance to talk, away from the formalities of the court that the bond they once shared would bloom again."

"It is quite admirable that you care so much about the welfare of these two warriors," Elder Yushua Abdul-Bari beamed at Dareejah. He gave both Ardeth and Ralon a quick shake of the head and wagged one finger at them. "It would be wise for the both of you to listen to Lady Dareejah, and stop acting like two children."

Izz al Din rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yushua, they are not children any longer, so stop talking to them as if they were."

"They were behaving like children," Yushua replied as he allowed Thias to gently usher him off the balcony.

"I believe it would be best for all parties involved if we adjourned to the solarium for some tea." Thias rounded up Izz al Din and continued herding the two old men towards a set of double doors. "And leave family matters exactly where they are: within the Bay family."

"While they may have been acting like children, it did not help matters that you addressed them as such," Izz al Din fussed as he was being led away.

"Big children with an appalling lack of manners." Yushua sniffed. "Ralon barely acknowledged our presence."

"I have ordered the cooks to add a special cake to the tea service today as a treat," Thias said patiently as he cast a meaningful glance over his shoulder at Dareejah.

The old men were still arguing as they disappeared from sight; nervously Dareejah turned to the warriors and smiled tentatively. "Well," she said as she glanced from the frowning Ardeth back to the glowering Ralon. "It would seem my first attempt as acting like a mother to you both has failed miserably. I was never very good in playing the role of the peacemaker."

"Ya ume's name was Sameeha," Ardeth stated coldly, his dark eyes blazing with anger from Dareejah's audacity to propagate herself as anything more than his step-aunt. "I have no need for another."

"And ya ume's name was Merinpa," Ralon sighed and held up one hand in a gesture for silence between Ardeth and Dareejah. "However our mother's names are not the issue here…" he paused and looked at Ardeth, sorrow emanating from the expression on his face. "What issues we do have are many in number, and would take more than one day to resolve."

"Agreed. Now is not the time for any further discussion," Ardeth stated crisply. He gave Dareejah a slight nod, and then turned to Ralon. "Duties that you may believe I have been shirking or neglecting are still my duties, Cousin, and I find that I must take my leave of you both for now. I trust that since you have been able to unleash most of your frustration on me that you will be leaving the city soon?"

Ralon nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "There is nothing further to discuss."

"La," Dareejah boldly grabbed Ardeth's sleeve and then turned to Ralon. "How can you do this? How can you both act this way? I have listened so many times to the stories that some of the Elders love to tell, and what I noticed the most about them is how close you once were. You were like brothers, and the love that you felt for one another was clearly expressed in every adventure, in every tale. Is this how you honor those memories?"

"Dareejah," Ralon began when Ardeth remained stubbornly silent.

"Is this how a family that has lost so much over the past few years supports one another?" Dareejah asked and pointed at Ralon. "Can you not let go of the past for just one moment, and look perhaps at your cousin with new eyes? He has changed, his life altered from a chance meeting with a barranidinyi mara. He needs you, although I doubt he will admit it."

"Stop," Ardeth said softly as Dareejah turned to him. "Do not…"

"And you, oh mighty chieftain," Dareejah purposely interrupted Ardeth, the ultimate goal of this fine piece of acting almost within grasp. "You are going to be an uncle. The cousin that you loved so much when you were a child is about to become a father. Can you not put aside your differences for just one night, and spend some time with Ralon before he must return home? Or are you willing to lose not only Ralon, but his wife and child as well? Your family is dwindling before your very eyes, Ardeth. You must act."

Ardeth sighed, hating how Dareejah had manipulated them into rethinking past accusations and actions. He saw Ralon staring expectantly at him, and for a brief moment the wall of anger around his heart cracked, making him yearn for what has been always slightly out of reach.

"I wish to prepare a dinner for you by the week's end." Dareejah softly cajoled as she wove her intricate web around the warriors. "It could be deemed a temporary truce to the war that you both seem intent on waging with one another. Or it could be a simple dinner between the three of us in an attempt to give us one last happy memory of us together…as a family."

"How in the name of Allah did you meet an outworlder?" Ralon asked Ardeth with a slight smile.

"You should talk," Ardeth replied with the same smile. "You had promised me when we were youths that you would never marry; we would both be free from the shackles of matrimony. Now you are to be a father. Does the woman who has ensnared you know what she has gotten herself into?"

Dareejah pasted a loving and cheerful smile on her face as the two warriors continued talking, reminiscing about the days of their youth. She artfully interjected the courses for dinner, appearing that her primary concern was the fare and the atmosphere. Mentally she readied another list that include a sharp dagger and the staunch loyalty of her personal guards; she didn't need them rushing into the room after the murders had been committed, now did she?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

**_Base camp within the triangle of _****_Abydos_****_Dendera_****_, and the West Bank of _****_Luxor_**

_**Fifty miles south of the original gateway**_

_**Three days later…**_

_Bijan__ settled uneasily on the lush pillows that were strewn across the intricately woven carpet covering the sandy floor, balancing his mug of tea in one hand while trying not to topple over. It had been quite a while since he had last experienced the hospitality of his desert kin, and had unfortunately forgotten their taste for the more rustic accommodations. _

_He brushed a few grains of sand from his pants, and resisted the urge to sigh with frustration; he had come ill prepared for desert travel and much to his chagrin, his hosts seemed to be enjoying his mild discomfort. He glanced up and noticed that the captain sitting across from him was flanked by two massive warriors who were staring expectantly at him. _

_Bijan__ hated the captain's aura of self confidence and authority; steeped in the customs of their people, he proudly wore the traditional robes and sacred marks on his face and hands as if mocking __Bijan's__ decision to forgo the tattoos. _

"_Is it really necessary to have them here?" __Bijan__ finally broke the lengthening silence and waved an arrogant hand at the captain's silent sentinels. _

_Captain Emir __Cohan__ had been watching the detective's uneasy perch on one tasseled pillow with an amused expression on his face, his dark eyes sparkling with mirth. As he tentatively sipped from his mug, he continued his observation, expecting the man to tumble head over heels at any moment. __"As necessary as getting you another pillow.__Solman__, would you please?"_

_The warrior named __Solman__ moved with an easy grace and agility that piqued __Bijan__, but he wisely held his tongue as the giant loomed before him, offering two pillows instead of the requested one. _

"_Shukran__," he murmured and shifted again, horrified that he had spilled a few drops of tea on the carpet. Feeling someone staring at him, __Bijan's__ eyes swept up to meet the intensely steady gaze of the other young warrior sitting by Emir's right side; it galled him to see such a large man casually displaying the very agility that seemed to have deserted him at the moment. _

"_Well," Emir smiled and raised his cup to his lips to hide it as __Bijan__ suddenly tilted to the left. "As much as I am reluctant to start our meeting off with grim news, I must inform you of the assassination attempt on our chieftain's life." _

"_All is not well," sighed the other massive warrior as he sat down by Emir's left side, watching __Bijan's__ pitiful attempts to stay upright. "Do you need my assistance again, Honored Guardian?" he asked when __Bijan__ uncrossed his legs with a sigh._

_Bijan__ glared at the young warrior and turned to Emir, his patience at an end. "Why are these two unseasoned warriors allowed to bear witness to this meeting? What may transpire here is of the utmost importance and I will not allow…"_

"_Commander __ibn__Sakhr__ sanctioned their presence here, and by decree of our chieftain they will remain by my side as we travel into the other world," Emir stated firmly, daring __Bijan__ to undermine the commander's authority. "If you wish, I will have Jericho's rest disrupted to satisfy your sense of propriety, Guardian, although I personally do not see __the__ need."_

_Mollified, __Bijan__ deferred with a slight bow of his head. "I was merely following protocol, Captain. I meant no disrespect."_

_Emir nodded, accepting the apology. "We have also been informed that you rescued the warrior, __Sharif__Rafe__, and that he has been recuperating at your home in Cairo. We are overjoyed to hear this news, and __Ardeth__ wishes for __Sharif__ to return home as soon as possible." _

_Bijan's__ hand tightened around his mug from the mention of the wounded warrior. "In regards to __Sharif's__ return," he started out slowly and paused, gauging how much he should reveal of what he thought to be the Traveler __Zayn's__ ineptness. "There has been a complication."_

_--------------------------------------------------------------------_

_**One hour later**_

_**Highway North by Northwest**_

**_Destination: _****_Bijan's_****_ home in Cairo_**

"_It would appear that I have been handling this case improperly," __Bijan__ murmured as he gripped the SUV's steering wheel, glancing in the rearview mirror at his passengers. "I should not have invited the Adams woman to stay at my home, yet it was my only means of damage control."_

"_A most unusual decision, I agree, but one can certainly understand why it was made," Traveler __Lahab__ spoke up from the back of the vehicle. "What intrigues me is that all of the people you have named in your report are coexisting peaceably within your home."_

"_It is a blending of cultures," Emir said as he glanced over at __Bijan__, his gaze shrewd and assessing. The Guardian's pristine reputation had preceded him, and Emir had been quite prepared to dislike the young man based on his own assumptions. The words 'stubborn, unyielding,' and 'uncaring' were often used in describing __Bijan__ but Emir had felt a small amount of compassion for the other man. His was a job that decreed he live in two worlds, and remain ever vigilant for the time, if it ever came, to keep evil incarnate from ruling them both._

"_It is my hope that one of us will be able to open the rift to send __Sharif__ back," __Bijan__ said as he slowed down near a fork in the road. "Although I haven't extensively questioned Traveler __Zayn__, I am still confused as to why his attempts have repeatedly failed."_

"_The time for __Sharif's__ return is not at hand," __Solman__ said from his seat behind __Bijan__. Fascinated by the Land Rover's electric windows, he went back to idly playing with the button, unaware of the shocked silence that followed his statement._

"_How do you know this, __ya__SaHib__?"__Makin__ asked kindly of his warrior brother. "Did this come to you in a dream, like your other one?" _

"_La," __Solman__ replied, and shifted nervously, uncomfortable from everyone staring at him. He looked at __Makin__ for reassurance and when he saw the slight nod, he happily went back to exploring the window's mechanisms._

_It was when conversation in the SUV had resumed did he finally elaborate. "This is what my heart tells me."_


	5. Part V

_**Unfinished lesson plan**_

**_Dr. Scott _****_Weaver,_****_ May 1999_**

_**Tape 119 – dictated to Cecelia Adams for word processing**_

"_Folklore __vs__ Fact._

_Folklore or legends have always fascinated me. _

**_note_****_ to _****_Cece_**_ – sighs I'm having trouble coming up with a plausible paragraph to follow my opening statement. Use some of my educational experience as filler or whatever you think is best. This damn chemo is draining me._

_In my recent studies regarding the study of the mask of __Iret-iruw__, I find it fascinating that none of the archeologists at the University of Memphis elaborate on the spells that were carved onto the mask's surface. The spells were derived from the Book of the Dead and the belief is that they were used as a means to help the departed navigate their way to the land of the dead or the land of __Osiris_

_While hesitant to criticize my fellow colleagues' main objective of their research, determining the cause of __Iret-iruw's__ death, I'm still extremely curious as to why they chose fact over folklore. _

_Fact – __Iret-iruw's__ body provided an excellent subject to study the importance of mummification in Egyptian funeral rites._

_Folklore – the spells taken from the Book of the Dead that 'helped' the deceased's journey to the afterworld, and I believe they could offer us a rare opportunity for study. _

_Fact – the age of __Iret-iruw__ at the time of his death was around thirty years old and it was concluded that a severe ear infection was the cause. _

_Folklore – the spells taken from the Book of the Dead exemplify the common beliefs of the Egyptian people._

**_note_****_ to _****_Cece_**_ – remind me to contact Dr. Barnes regarding my travels abroad. Don't want to get the good cancer doctor angry with me for trying to live my life…sorry, digressed._

_Note to self – use slide show as examples for class. Get extension cord for projector._

**_note_****_ to _****_Cece_**_ – use my notes from yesterday regarding the roundtable discussion held last Tuesday as filler. There should be a suitable conclusion for this rambling dictation in there somewhere…_

_How much of the Egyptian life was dedicated to upholding the tidbits of folklore we are finding so easily in our recent archeological studies? _

_Has our community decided to abandon the mythical aspect of this ancient race of people and focus on C.A.T scans to determine mummification processes and cause of death?_

_Folklore and fact go hand in hand, and I believe that one cannot exist without the other. If you approach the study of an ancient civilization with a narrow perspective, then it is my belief that you will miss all the cultural richness of those people._

_tape__ stops._

_tape__ starts_

_**Note to **_**_Cece_**_ – try to insert this interesting little paragraph that was found by Dr. Sydney __Rambone__ a few days ago on a dig near Thebes into the lesson. I feel it truly captures the main thread of my lesson plan, especially when it talks about the Soulless Ones as warriors. Who were the warriors and who was their king? And why would someone want to control these beings? I really wish I could join his team there in a few days…this piece has me so intrigued. _

_Reads** Soulless **_**_Ones _****_Nafsaqall_****_WaHid_****_ disgraced warriors that violated their oaths, and have been stripped of rank, and of their sacred marks. For hundreds of years they have lived in the shadows of the great tombs as outcasts from our people, their bodies returning to the earth from which they came, controlled by the one who wields the shards from the death mask of _****_Iret-iruw_**

**_It is written in the by-laws that control over the _****_Nafsaqall_****_WaHid_****_ can be obtained by using the shards, and the Elders have appointed a guardian to ensure that this does not ever occur." _**

_tape__ stops_

_------------------------------------------------------------------_

_**Late June 1925**_

_**Egypt**_

**_Outer courtyard that leads to Lady _****_Dareejah's_****_ private quarters_**

_**Later that night…**_

Dareejah's descent down the steps that led out to the square was as regal as a queen's entrance to court and just as dramatic. The long ends of her silken robe billowed out behind her as dainty feet clad in silk slippers softly padded across the tiled walkway. The long lush veil of her hair swung enticingly over the generous curve of her backside as errant tendrils floated around her face and shoulders, toyed with by a wayward breeze.

The moon, it seemed, even paid homage to this lady of noble birth, bathing her body in a soft, ethereal light, temporarily hiding the passage of time reflected on her face. Dareejah took great pride in her appearance and when she stopped in front of Khaled Harb, she arched one finely crafted eyebrow as her dark gazed raked over his disheveled attire.

"Do you have what we require?" A handmaiden mysteriously appeared by the Lady Dareejah's side and Khaled curse under his breath. His instincts, honed from years of living as a thief and a killer, had not warned him. He hated to be surprised and a quick glance around the well built courtyard made Khaled curse again; it was the perfect place for an ambush.

Khaled grunted and motioned for two of his men to come forward, his dark gaze sliding from one woman to the other. Allah how his body tightened from the thought of taking those sweet, ripe bodies and pounding into them until their screams of pleasure brought his own release.

"You said it was going to be easy breaking into the alchemist's home and stealing the mask," he grumbled and kicked one bag with his foot. It rocked awkwardly for a few moments, revealing a large dark maroon stain that was spreading across the bottom of the fabric. "That crazy old man was not an easy kill and the price for my services has just doubled."

The handmaiden's eyes narrowed in irritation over her veil. "Killing the alchemist was not part of our agreement," she hissed. "He was to have been kept alive so that he could decipher the incantations on the mask shards and instruct my employer on their uses."

Khaled's gaze slide back to Lady Dareejah; her gaze seemed riveted to the bloody bag in morbid fascination. "I altered the agreement at my discretion, especially when al Mahir seemed reluctant to accompany us here," he clarified and held out one hand. "I am certain that your _employer_ will be able to find someone in the court that will be of some service."

"We are not pleased with your spontaneous decision," the handmaiden snapped as she produced a large cloth bag bulging with coin. "And since you have failed to honor an important part of our contract, the payment will be half of the agreed price."

Khaled waited until his men's protests died down and then boldly addressed Dareejah. "My men and I will get paid full price," he growled and motioned for one of them to come forward. As a second bag was dropped on the ground, he continued, "The good and clever alchemist had kept a journal and the pages pertaining to the mask and its potential uses are inside."

Dareejah knelt down and touched one of the bags as a soft, feline smile graced her lips. "So it comes with instructions, how marvelous," she whispered as she stood up. She clapped her hands and two more bags of gold appeared moments later. "I trust this payment is more than satisfactory for a night's work?"

Khaled eagerly nodded, pacified from the pleasing tone and pitch of Lady Dareejah's cultured voice. As he knelt down to check his riches, a few of his men rushed to his side, just as anxious as he to know the true amount of their payment. "If you are in ever need of us again, send your handmaiden to find us and we will gladly be of service," the murderer offered with a sly grin.

Dareejah wrinkled her nose as her delicate sensibilities caught the pungent order from Khaled and his men. "Of course," she murmured as she gave the pre-arranged signal. "One must always applaud the willingness of those who would steal and kill for royalty; your service to your queen is most appreciated."

Khaled's senses, dulled by the prosperity that had been suddenly showered upon him, only caught the word 'queen' and he reacted too late. His head jerked up as the first of several arrows slammed into his body, hurtling it backwards. When it came to a dusty rest, Khaled's last rattling breath was to curse the treacherous woman whose maniacal laughter floated on the breeze and echoed through his mind over and over until the blackness claimed him.

Dareejah wrapped her arms around her body as the air was filled with hundreds of arrows, her dark eyes bright with an unholy gleam of delight. She glanced at the other woman and was quite pleased to see that her previous assessment of her handmaiden's loyalty had been correct. The young woman was clearly horrified by the massacre she was witnessing but she stood stoically by Dareejah's side despite the occasional tremor that racked her body.

"Ya sitti," the handmaiden asked as she kept her eyes averted from the dark splotches that stained the ground. "Are you certain this had to be done?"

Dareejah gestured for two of the guards to retrieve the gold and the bags, and then turned to face the younger woman as a faint smile of triumph graced her face. "One must always be prepared for blood shed when changing the course of a nation; it is the art of warfare. You have just seen the first of many acts to come that will change our lives forever; you should feel privileged to have witnessed this momentous occasion."

"Aiwa, ya sitti, I am most honored," the handmaiden murmured as she gave a slight bow. She waited until Dareejah swept past her, but hesitated a moment before joining her mistress, glancing around the courtyard. The bodies were almost gone now, and as the guards continued removing the evidence of the crime, she wondered if this massacre tonight was heralding a new and bloody era for her people.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ralon braced his arm against one of the stone columns that lined the upper walkway and shook his head in mute repulsion, unable to comprehend the atrocity he had just witnessed. His horrified gaze roamed over the last of Dareejah's guards spreading sand on the ground to soak up the blood as he remembered all of the 'little chats' he and his step-mother had over the past few days.

She had prepared him for this…had given subtle hints about Ardeth's lackluster role as their chieftain that his stubborn heart and mind had gladly embraced…_Ardeth_ was always the one at fault…she could only do so much since she was a woman but if Ralon spoke in her place before the Elders…_Ardeth_ never listened…she had promised him so much and had given nothing but lies…she had influenced him into believing she was the one who had been wronged…all lies…

"Oh hulu Allah, what have I done?" Ralon murmured.

In listening to the fabrications rather than the truth, Ralon had also ignored Dareejah's questionable behavior, and had foolishly been her champion to those who had believed otherwise. As the guards swept up the last of the maroon colored sand and erased the tragic event that took place earlier, he decided he must act…he needed a confidante but knew to approach Ardeth at this point would not be wise. Through Dareejah's skillful manipulations, she had driven them farther apart and sadly, Ralon realized that Ardeth no longer trusted him.

Filled with the desire to set things right as soon as possible, Ralon hurried from the walkway and knew there was one person he could go to and trust…one person who would judge him fairly and not be swayed from his foolish behavior of the past few days. And if he lived through the encounter, he swore he would tell his grandchildren about the day he confessed his sins to Kedar Ishaq, Ardeth's best friend.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Do you see?" Thias asked softly and glanced at the woman standing next to him. His dark gaze raked over her body, finding the strange combination of slave and lethal beauty arousing; he reached over and touched her chin, making her look at him.

"Is this necessary?" Itosh asked in a bored tone of voice. "Order her and be done with it. I fail to see why we…"

Thias waved off Itosh's impatience. "Anyone can order a slave, and they mechanically perform their obligations," he crooned as his grip changed and he caressed the slave's cheek. "I want this…this woman…"

"She is Mequeadorian, the last of her cursed kind," Itosh supplied.

Thias blinked at the unexpected news. "Are you certain of that?" he asked.

"She bears the brand of an assassin on her right hip, near the top of her thigh."

"An assassin now slave, how interesting." Thias chuckled at this unexpected good fortune. The woman, he noted, had been watching them both with the unblinking stare of a predator and for a fleeting moment, Thias believed she was already anticipating killing them both.

"She will murder you while you are asleep. It is what they excelled at the most," Itosh warned as they continued to stray away from the topic at hand.

"Do you see?" Thias asked the slave again, and waved off any further comment from Itosh. "This is what I expect you to keep me safe from - that…that woman down in the courtyard. Clearly she is losing the last shreds of her sanity and only I have been blessed with the ability to keep her calm. Or at least I had that talent until tonight. She is unstable, and unpredictable; I will not have her impetuous actions ruin the plans that I have carefully cultivated over the past several years."

The incredulous look that flared up in the slave's eyes made Itosh snort and Thias pulled his hand back, ready to slap the insolence from her face. When she failed to flinch from the threat and seemed to be expecting it, his hand dropped. Frustrated, he yanked on her chains and forced her to her knees in an obvious position of submission, and then jerked her arms up.

"I am your new lord and master," he hissed, his face red from his anger. He rattled the chains. "You will obey me and no other. I will allow you a modicum of freedom within these walls but do not take my generosity as a sign of weakness, thinking to escape."

The woman struggled for a few moments when the awkward position of her body pulled on her arms but she remained silent, a tactic Thias had to grudgingly admire. "All thoughts of flight will soon leave your mind when you see the new cage I have for you, my pretty bird. Now answer me properly and in return I shall grant you a restful night's sleep, away from any amorous advances from myself or my friend."

Dark, almond shaped eyes slowly wandered up Thias' body in a bold and defiant stare as she obstinately pushed at the hands that held her down. She lifted her chin a fraction, but stopped struggling, daring not to provoke her new master any further than necessary. "I will obey, my lord Thias," she declared in a husky voice void of emotion.

"Splendid." Thias beamed. He handed the chains to Itosh and gestured for them to follow him along the walkway that led towards his temporary quarters within the citadel. "As you will soon realize, my little tigress, I am a man of great importance and my life is quite invaluable. Danger lurks all around me, and I feel the cold touch of death at every turn. The Lady Dareejah has become a dangerous ally and I fear that her poison has saturated every level of this hierarchy; it was only a matter of time before it reached our chieftain."

"There is another task for you to perform, slave," Itosh eagerly added on, delighted at the intriguing web of deception. No tactic was beneath his friend Thias in order to gain power, and they had both agreed earlier that Dareejah had grown reckless; she was beyond their reasoning. And both men feared that in her mad quest for power, Dareejah would gain control of the kingdom and rid herself of those she perceived to be her enemies.

Namely Thias and Itosh.

"How tragic that I must do this in order to keep our kingdom free from Dareejah's tyrannical claws but I do what I must, as any good councilor would," Thias said as they walked out towards the main grounds and near his temporary quarters, a pious expression on his face.

"You are good for our people, my friend."

"And I will be an even better king." Thias smirked at Itosh and then turned back to the slave. He stopped walking for a moment and tilted his head as he studied the woman in front of him with a critical eye. "Do you have a name?"

"My name is not for you to…" the woman started to say but Itosh's slap rocked her head back. She struggled to keep her composure although her hands ached to drive her knife deep into his belly for the killing blow.

"The antiquated customs of your people do not apply here, slave," Itosh snapped. "Tell him your name or else I will ignore his decree of abstinence for tonight and take you here on the ground like an animal."

"What is your name?" Thias asked pleasantly, ignoring Itosh's brutal treatment of the slave.

She refused to wipe the trickle of blood from her mouth as the sacred words stumbled past her parched lips. May her ancestors forgive her for this sin, but it only added to the thousands of others that she had committed during her lifetime. The failure of what she had become weighed heavily on her shoulders as she said, "Khorai-ahj-she."

Thias nodded his approval as they started walking again. "An interesting name, but I shall call your Khori since it pleases me to do so. As Itosh mentioned earlier, you will be given another task to perform and the fate of kingdom hinges on your legendary skill as a huntress."

"Who is the kill?" Khori asked, her heart heavy within her chest.

"We do what we can in the name of our people, do we not Itosh?"

"Aiwa, we do."

"And in the name of our people, and for the fate of the generations to come, I hereby order to you assassinate Ardeth Bay, chieftain of the Medjai" Thias gave a dramatic pause, and pursed his lips in irritation when his declaration gained little response. Thias thrived on theatrics and Itosh's almost comical reaction did little to appease his bruised ego. He continued despite Khori's appalling lack of understanding. "I will advise when the time has come; do not assume or ignore my orders, my pretty bird. Have I made myself clear?"

Khori bowed her head in submission even as her heart cried out against the injustice that was her life. She wanted to escape, to flee from this horrid land and find solace and comfort back in the rain forests of her youth. She wanted a home and family…she had wanted so many things but the gods had given her a different path to walk and she was forced to walk it alone.

As the words of obedience slipped past her lips, she quelled any feelings of despair and latched on to the old hatred that burned bright inside. When the time came, she would feed it and use its energy to her advantage, perfecting her skill as an assassin with the ordered kills.

And when the arrogant Thias and pig Itosh were lulled into a false sense of security, she would strike in an attempt to gain her freedom…or die trying.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_a/n__ – sorry for the lapse in updates, I wasn't feeling very well last week. Btw, the __Mequeadorian__ race and the name __Khorai-ahj-she__ are obviously fictional and if you need to, please revisit my disclaimer at the beginning of the story. No offense intended, and will the addition of __Khori__ cause more angst and new problems for __Ardeth__ and the boys…? You be the judge. __And many thanks to Ladybug, Dawn and Serena for simply listening when my muse went wild with the idea of __Khori__ thrown into the mix…__shukran __ya__saHib. __Shukran._

_Also no offense in twisting the historital facts behind Iret-iruw and his mask-disclaimers at beginning of story should suffice. _

_Hey **Kid MDD** and **Desperate** - are ya reading? Lol Or I have lost you both...(pouts)_

_**Lula** - I got your pm's...(smiles) Just have to find time to reply. _

**_Khori-ahj-she_** – noble of the heart


	6. Chapter 6

_**Early Evening**_

**_Bijan's_****_ home_**

_**1999 the same day**_

_Cautiously, __Sharif__ opened his bedroom door and warily checked the hallway, noting with an abnormal amount of relief that his guard had disappeared. He closed the door behind him and then crept along the wall as Eric's dark head popped out from the corner ahead of him. _

"_C'mon, c'mon," Eric hissed as he waved at __Sharif__ to hurry up. He relished their spontaneous covert operation and when __Sharif__ was close enough, he snagged the warrior's shirt and pulled him along. He softly whistled a few notes from the theme song from the TV show, "Mission Impossible," and then leaned back to __Sharif__. "I have no idea how long they'll be gone, so we __gotta__ make this quick."_

"_Where are they?" __Sharif__ asked as they neared the living room._

"_They went back to that restaurant for some more take-out, or at least I think they did." Eric raised an eyebrow and suspiciously peered around the corner. "But then again, __Cece__ and Jamie could be hiding, __ya__ know, like to fake us out? Man, I've never seen her so…so persistent with something when it comes to you."_

_Sharif__ chose to remain silent as he thought about Jamie Richards; how she had managed to nestle her way into his heart was something the warrior would never comprehend. He marveled at her determination and refusal to heed his demands to be left alone. Despite an earlier conversation in the garden where __Sharif__ had tried to tell Jamie good-bye, she had continued drawing him in to the household activity, most likely believing that his interaction with everyone was far better than the quiet prison-like solitude of his room._

_Secretly pleased by her efforts, and enjoying the special attention she lavished on him, __Sharif__ was very aware of the peril he was placing his heart in; being with her nourished the growing affection he felt rather than diminished it. _

_How in the name of Allah would he be able to leave her when the time came? How had she become so important to him in such a short period of time, that he could not envision his life without her? Futilely, he fought the attraction the best he could, but he was only a man…and Jamie was a loving, caring woman whose tender care had invaded his being, breaking the protective wall that had encased his heart._

_He was not meant to have her; he was __Medjai__, she was not of his world. She was a __barranidinyi__. She was an __outworlder__…she was….she held his heart in her hands, and yet __Sharif__ unenthusiastically repeated those reasons each night before he fell asleep. _

_Strange that they provided very little comfort._

"_The coast is clear, let's go," Eric said and motioned for __Sharif__ to follow._

_Suddenly __Zayn__ rounded the corner, absorbed in reading a thick manuscript and biting into the crisp skin of an apple. Engrossed in the passage, he never saw Eric, and the two men collided with a resounding thud. _

"_Ow__! Jesus, __Zayn__, do you have bricks in your shoes?" Eric whined and reached down to rub his throbbing shin. _

_Zayn__ blinked in confusion as he looked from __Sharif__ to Eric and back again. "Why would I have bricks in my shoes?" he asked, the apple poised in midair. "And what are you doing out here? Why are you creeping through the hallway?"_

"_I'm not creeping, I'm rescuing; there's a difference."_

_Sharif__ leaned against the other wall and watched the exchange between the two men with a faint smile on his face, their encounter reminding him of his best friends, __Makin__ and __Solman__. Between __Makin's__ strange sense of humor and __Solman's__ refreshing honesty when confronted with a situation neither was adapt at handling, they had somehow managed to survive the long months of training in the warrior sect. _

"_Who are you rescuing?" __Zayn__ asked, still baffled by Eric's behavior. _

"_Him," Eric jerked a thumb in __Sharif's__ direction. "I wanted to give __Sharif__ a break and get him outside for some fresh air before the girls come back. From their obsessive mothering, I think they've got the poor guy almost climbing the walls in that room."_

"_SamaH__ana__, I have been far too engrossed in my readings to know who is here and who is not; where are Cecelia and Jamie?" _

_As Eric continued talking to the traveler, the smile gradually faded from __Sharif's__ face when he realized that there was a strong possibility that he would never see his warrior brothers again. Mourning their loss, as well as feeling guilty for being unable to mend the rift with __Sajid__Sharif__ quietly excused himself and boldly walked into the living room over to the sliding doors._

_Zayn__ sighed as he and Eric watched __Sharif__ go outside. He turned back to the other man with a thoughtful expression on his face. "In my limited years of service as a Traveler, I have come to the conclusion that all of us possess certain abilities or gifts, if you wish to call them. And that some of us may never tap into the full power of those gifts while others use them with consummate skill. You, __ya__ sahib, may doubt my words but your gift is a priceless one, especially to __Sharif__."_

_Eric grinned and placed his hands on his hips. "__Lemme__ guess. It's my sense of humor, right? That's my gift?"_

_Zayn__ frowned. "La, I was not going to say that; I do not think you're very humorous at all. I was actually referring to your friendship; your acceptance of and camaraderie with __Sharif__ has been crucial and greatly needed."_

"_I'm nobody special, __Zayn__," Eric said. "I'm just a simple man who likes to make people laugh a little too much. And hey, since when don't you like my jokes?" _

_Zayn__ motioned for Eric to follow, and walked into the living room. "Do you realize that for a few precious moments, you lift the burden from __Sharif's__ shoulders, and give him a brief respite from the weight of this world bearing down on him? And truthfully, I still do not understand why the chicken had to cross the road when it could have stayed where it was."_

_Eric groaned and flopped down on the couch, remembering how long it had taken to tell that classic joke to __Zayn__ who had seem more fascinated with the idea of the chicken being on the road. "I wish I could do more," he said. "And can we please stop talking about that damn chicken? I'm craving some decent KFC like crazy here."_

"_Do not underestimate __yourself__," __Zayn__ said as he sat down across from Eric and laid the book open on the coffee table. "I greatly appreciate your assistance with the translation from the manuals and it has been refreshing to have someone whose opinion has not been tainted with the traditions of the __Medjai__ to offer insight. Because of you, I believe I may have stumbled across something that could help __Sharif__."_

"_What is it? Something like __Sharif__ clicks his heels three times and says, 'there's no place like home'?" Eric joked. He glanced out the glass doors and saw __Sharif__ resting on the garden bench. Considering his attacks were coming more frequently now, Eric thought it wise to keep an eye on the warrior. _

_Zayn__ frowned in confusion from Eric's question. "La," he replied, unfamiliar with the reference. "The assistance is coming from an unsuspected source living in this household."_

_Eric snorted. "Well we know it __ain't__Bijan__."_

_Zayn__ smiled as he pointed to the passage. "It is Jamie." _

…………………………………………………………………………

_**Late June 1925**_

_**Egypt**_

_**Warrior temporary housing**_

_**Early morning hours of the next day**_

"How is your hand, Kedar?" Nabil asked as he placed a bowl of water on the stand next to the pallet. He sat down next to Ralon and silently marveled that the other warrior was still conscious and almost coherent.

"My hand is not the issue here," Kedar growled as he paced in front of the pallet, his dark eyes burning with a barely contained rage. "I should have killed Dareejah long ago. I should have done away with her and dealt with the consequences."

Nabil remained thoughtfully silent as he applied a cool cloth to the swelling under Ralon's eye. "Dareejah is not acting alone; would killing her make any difference?" he finally asked several moments later.

"It would have made me feel wonderful," Kedar snapped as he continued his pacing.

"And how do you feel, Ralon?" Nabil's gray eyes sparkled with humor as he rinsed the cloth out in the basin; he couldn't help but ask since he knew quite well about Kedar's temper. "Do you feel wonderful?"

Ralon felt confused by Nabil's question since his head was still aching from Kedar's blows and he shook his head, instantly regretting that action. "I am not…sure what I feel…." he murmured dejectedly and sat up, gingerly touching his ribs.

"How about foolish?" Kedar interjected as he stopped pacing and stood in front of both warriors, his hands on his hips. "Does that work? Immature…selfish…gutless, spineless…"

Nabil halted Kedar's tirade with a slight shake of his head and turned back to Ralon, believing the younger warrior had suffered enough for one night. "Here," he murmured and handed Ralon another cloth.

"Shukran." Ralon gratefully accepted the cool cloth to press against the cut on his lip, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts. "Aiwa," he finally confessed, "I feel foolish and I should have confronted Dareejah as soon as the crime had been committed."

"And you would have risked getting yourself killed," Nabil said as he wiped his hands dry on a spare linen and stood up. "Dareejah is far more resourceful than most give her credit for, and her minions, Thias and Itosh, eagerly jump to do her bidding. They would have killed you without a second thought and would have framed another for the murder."

"I should pay our beloved lady a visit now and disturb her much needed beauty rest," Kedar said. He bent down and glared at Ralon. "But wait, I have a better idea." He jabbed his finger against Ralon's chest. "_You_ and I should pay her a visit; after all she is your stepmother…"

"I claim no kinship with that…that woman," Ralon snapped and pushed away Nabil's hands as he struggled to stand up. To his shame, his legs wouldn't cooperate and he awkwardly sat down, earning a look of understanding from Nabil. "I should have…"

"I should have never allowed Dareejah's actions to go unanswered," Ardeth stated as he appeared in the doorway. "But it would appear that _my_ actions have been foolish as well to believe in the word of others." He leaned against the frame and rubbed his hand over his face, his dark eyes skimming over Ralon's disheveled appearance. "What in the name of Allah happened to you?"

"Kedarth," Ralon replied just as Nabil pushed the cloth back against his lip, and he glanced over at the commander with a wary expression on his face.

"Your cousin and I had a long talk," Kedar replied and he struggled not to laugh as Ralon tried to stand up again and fell back down onto the pallet with a dejected grunt. "One that I believe you and your cousin need to have right now, oh mighty chieftain."

Ardeth raised an eyebrow over the imperious tone in Kedar's voice. "Are you ordering me to do something, Commander?" he asked with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he walked over to Ralon.

"La, I am not ordering you," Kedar said as he waited for Nabil to join him at the door so the two men could have some privacy. "I am demanding it; there is a difference."

"Sounds like you are ordering Ardeth to me…ow," Nabil said as he walked by Kedar. "Did you just hit my arm?"

"La," Kedar said as he gave Ardeth a wink while he closed the door. "I was tapping you; there is a difference."

"Well it felt like you struck me…Ow! You hit me again…"

"La…it is all in your imagination…I would never…"

The door closed as the two warriors continued their friendly bickering down the hallway, giving Ardeth and Ralon a much needed moment to compose themselves before they addressed the topic at hand.

Ardeth pulled a small stool over to the side of the pallet and sat down, his critical gaze sweeping over Ralon's dirty robes again. "You are lucky to be alive," he finally stated as he leaned a forearm on top of one knee. "What in the name of our ancestors possessed you to provoke Kedar into striking you? You do not recall the many brawls he got the both of us out of when we were children? His strength is phenomenal and I am astonished that you are still alive and able to speak of it."

Ralon dropped the cloth as he struggled for a way to begin; his gaze roamed everywhere until it finally rested on Ardeth's face. The lines were more prominent, and Ralon swore he saw a deep fatigue in his cousin's face that was never there before; fleetingly he wondered if Dareejah had anything to do with that. "There are many things I wish to say to you, my cousin," Ralon began softly. "And I shall pray to Allah that I am able to find the right words to convey all that I have seen and heard this night. Samah ana if I do not make sense but…"

Catching the sincerity and lack of bitterness in his voice, Ardeth leaned forward and placed a brotherly hand on Ralon's shoulder. "You know you can always speak your mind to me, aiwa? No matter what has happened between us in the past, we are still family and as much as I hate to admit this, Dareejah is correct – we are all that the other has. We are still cousins and I will always protect you, I swear on my oath."

Ralon smiled slightly from Ardeth's words and he took a deep breath for courage. "Now is the time for me to protect you, this on my oath I do swear," he said softly, and slowly he began telling Ardeth everything, purging his mind, his heart and his soul.

The two men talked long into the early morning hours and only after the sun had settled in the mid-morning position in the sky did they finally decide to rest. The bond of kinship between them had strengthened and the rift that had divided had been repaired, the new foundation stronger than before. Both of them knew and now agreed who the true enemy was but neither could come up with a viable solution on how to rid themselves of Dareejah without inciting the wrath of the Elders.

And both of them realized just how skilled Dareejah was in manipulating them – tonight was the family dinner she had been planning for the past few days. If they were to suddenly decline, that would arouse her suspicions and neither man could predict her behavior if that were to happen. Despite their better judgment, both agreed to still attend but only after they had made some adjustments of their own to ensure their safety.

Dareejah was not to be trusted…and Ardeth couldn't help but believe that going to the impending dinner party was going to feel like walking into a viper's den.

……………………………………………………………………………

_**Later that day – early evening**_

_**Cairo, **_

**_El _****_Saiyida_****_Zeinab_****_ District_**

_**1999**_

"_The world we once knew has changed," Emir murmured as the SUV sped through the crowded streets of Cairo, towards __Bijan's__ home. He watched in silent amazement as people and cars participated in an orchestrated dance of movement and perpetual forward motion; surging up like the waters of the Nile only to recede and surge up again._

_Bustling market places sped past the warriors in a garish display of wares as each vendor tried to outsell the other, claiming their stand had the best tools, jewelry, fabrics, paper, and birds. __Solman__ had been fascinated when they passed the bird vendors located in the Abu __Rish__ area of __Saiyida__Zeinab__ while Emir's attention had been drawn to the varied dyed leather goods of another vendor. _

"_What in the name of Allah is that?" __Makin__ asked as he pulled down his face covering to stare at the lone vendor located near the end of one avenue. He had on display a dazzling array of silver and gray boxes that came in all shapes and sizes. But what had entranced the young warrior the most was what he thought to be music coming from them, although it had been too loud and distorted for him to enjoy. _

"_Bero__, keep your sacred marks hidden from public view," __Bijan__ tersely instructed as they sped out of the market district. "I do not want an innocent passerby to see them and cause any unnecessary speculation. This is a covert operation and you are to remain concealed."_

"_I prefer using my face covering since the smell of this time does not suit me," __Solman__ said and looked at Emir. "It smells of neglect and decay, like a mummy's tomb. Is this what the Cairo in our time will become?"_

_Emir's dark gaze slashed to __Bijan's__ before he answered, uncertain on how much to reveal to the warrior. "I cannot say," he replied truthfully, knowing __Solman__ would know if he were to fabricate. "I do not know much about this world expect what the Travelers have recorded in the Chronicles."_

"_I will gladly show you those Chronicles if you wish to learn more, __Solman__." __Lahab__ smiled at the other warrior, hoping to appease his curiosity. _

"_I knew I should have paid more attention when we had that class in the warrior's training," __Makin__ muttered as he adjusted his face covering._

"_We are here," __Bijan__ announced a little while later as he expertly turned the truck into a narrow alleyway near the back entrance to his home. "Remember all that I have told you and do not be alarmed by __Sharif's__ appearance. We need to get him out of the house and back to the gateway as soon as possible before it is too late. His life depends on our swift action."_

"_I will save the life of my friend and brother," __Makin__ firmly stated as he climbed out of the vehicle. "I swear it before Allah and on my warrior's oath – he will not die this day."_

"_I believe you, warrior," __Bijan__ stated softly as they hurried up the stone driveway towards the home's courtyard. "For all of our sakes, I believe you."_

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_**A/N** - Thanks for the reviews, and I think I'm getting the hang of the Fanfic pm/thingiemabob, meaning that I'm trying to respond to all who read...it's the least I can do. lol _


	7. Chapter 7

_**Later that day**_

_**Cairo**_

**_El _****_Saiyida_****_Zeinab_****_ District, Bijan's home_**

_**1999**_

_Sharif__ reached up and gently touched the delicate jasmine blooms, amazed that the tiny white flowers were able to produce such a wonderful fragrance; they reminded him of Jamie._

_Small yet strong…they seemed a hardy plant and yet needed as much water and nourishment as the other plants blooming in __Bijan's__ garden. __Sharif__ inhaled deeply, absorbing their scent and tucked it away in the far recesses of his heart so he would always remember. _

_Whether it was intuition or the nameless fear that had kept him awake at night, __Sharif__ couldn't say, but he somehow knew that his time in this realm was rapidly coming to an end. He had wanted to make amends so that he could leave this life without any regrets and thank his friends for all of their help and hospitality. He had wanted to do it this night, but Jamie and Cecelia leaving the house had unexpectedly changed his plans. _

_Unsure on how to proceed, __Sharif__ retreated to the one haven the house had offered him, needing the comforting solitude of the garden to gather his thoughts. But even as he walked among the lush foliage, he was restless and unable to think beyond the moment – unable to think beyond the here and now._

_He stopped in front of the bench that would always remind him of the talks he had with Jamie over the past few days, and a slight smile graced his lips. She was invigorating and stubborn, generous and imperious…she was continually amazing him and amusing him, and never had __Sharif__ smiled or laughed as so much as when he was in her presence. Although he would tell Eric that he would miss his poorly constructed attempts at humor, it was Jamie that he would truly miss. _

_Thoughtfully, he rubbed his fingertips along the top of the bench railing, his thoughts meandering through the memories he had saved that would last him a lifetime, when he suddenly noticed his hand was shaking._

_The tremors were small and erratic but continued gaining strength until the tell-tale warning sign flared up within __Sharif's__ body. The pain radiated up from his midsection and __Sharif__ groaned, bending over as he felt the sickening sensation of another attack encroaching. "La…not yet…I still…have…so much…to do," he groaned as he staggered away from the jasmine bushes and towards one of the stone paths. _

_Sheer will and determination pushed __Sharif__ to keep walking, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach as he stumbled towards the sliding glass doors. He had to tell Jamie…had to tell her what was in his heart and that lent him only enough strength to reach a small grouping of fruit trees. His body could stand no more and he sank to the ground in defeat as chills raced up and down his spine. He curled into a fetal position, sucking in large gulps of air as he concentrated on remaining in this realm, even as his form shimmered and faded. Wave after wave of pain crested and washed over him until he could stand no more and when the attack neared its terrifying crescendo, he was unable to hold back his scream of agony._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------_

**Early July 1925**

_**Egypt**_

**_The Guardians Citadel "Il _****_Wasi_****_Qal'a_****_"_**

_**West Wing Dining Room**_

**_Near midnight…_**

Dareejah carefully folded her linen napkin and coyly glanced at the two warriors sitting in front of her, feeling somewhat agitated that she had been casually ignored for most of the meal. Despite her intentions of maintaining control over the evening, Ardeth had artfully if not courteously reduced her to the role in which she thought was most demeaning – the woman. And it had been her duty as the woman to serve the men, seeing to their every need and ensuring that their dining experience had been a most pleasant one.

Piteously, she sulked and glanced around the room, her gaze noting the rich tapestries that adorned the walls, the blazing scones that had been polished to a golden sheen and the burning candles that gave the room a rich, warm glow. Urns and various pots had been placed in precise spots around the room, the aromatic incense hanging heavy in the air, while hundreds of smaller tapers placed in various holders adorned the walls and small tables stationed nearby. The room had been decorated in the deep, rich colors of maroon, gold, green, and brown – all of it combining to promote a sense of well being and security.

All to lull the senses of her prey…

Dareejah's eyes narrowed as the obvious newfound closeness of the cousins began grating on her nerves; what she couldn't decipher was if it was an excellent piece of acting or had the two men had a reconciliation that she had not foreseen in her planning? When the story that Ardeth had been telling Ralon grew livelier and the two men were sharing a laugh, Dareejah decided to strike. And like the snake that she was, she moved her pieces into the final play of the game.

She signaled her personal guards and within moments the attendants appeared and cleared away the remaining dinner dishes. Surely this would gain their attention or so she had thought; Ralon graciously thanked his attendant, subtly ignoring his stepmother, and Dareejah's temper flared.

She stood up, almost turning over her chair, and pasted a cheery smile on her face as she clapped her hands for attention. When the two warriors looked at her, the similarities between them truly took Dareejah's breath away and for a moment, her vision faded and she saw the face of her murdered husband accusing her of her crimes.

That face had not haunted her dreams for so many months – why now?

"…not well, step mother?" Ralon asked. He stood up as if he wanted to come over but Dareejah's mind jumped back to the present and she held him off with a wave of her hand.

"I would love for us to adjourn to the sitting room for some refreshments; I ordered the cooks to prepare your favorite desserts and I hope they will be the perfect ending to a perfect meal," Dareejah said as she stood up and waited for one of the men to act as an escort.

"An excellent idea," Ardeth smiled and tugged on Ralon's arm in a bid to get his attention. "Did I ever tell you what happened to that woman whose daughter was infatuated with you when we were training in the warrior sect?"

Ralon's eyes widened in remembrance as both warriors walked past a fuming Dareejah without a second glance. "Oh for the love of…what was her name? And she was not smitten with me; it was you, my most noble cousin."

"La, it was you and I believe she named her horse after you," Ardeth chuckled.

Ralon groaned as they left the room, leaving a seething Dareejah in their wake. "You had to bring up that memory, did you not?" he laughed.

Dareejah needed time to gain her composure but the temptation to scream was almost overwhelming. She opted for another release and snatched a remaining plate from the table, smashing it on the floor. As the attendants rushed in to investigate, she coolly walked from the table, motioning for one of her guards to walk next to her.

"Is all in readiness?" she whispered to the loyal guard.

"Aiwa, my queen," the man murmured, his dark gaze adoringly searching her face. "All will go as planned and I have made certain there will be no deviations."

Dareejah blessed him with a dazzling smile and before she entered the other room, she suggestively rubbed her hands over his broad chest, remembering how fine of a lover he had been just a few hours ago. "You will be most handsomely rewarded, my future captain of the palace guards," she purred and then artfully dodged his hands before he could capture a sweet kiss.

The guard gave a low sweeping bow and then hurried off to do his mistress' bidding; the timing of this was crucial and he would not fail his Lady Dareejah now, not when she needed him the most.

"…prepared for this?" Ardeth murmured as he stood with Ralon near the serving tray. Absently, he poured a cup of tea for them both, and flavored it heavily with honey. Both of them had been discussing the next course of action for the evening, and Ardeth had expressed his concern that they had unwisely provoked Dareejah too much tonight.

"I am prepared for the truth," Ralon said as he accepted the cup. "I want my family back, and that does not include that lying she…"

"I have sent a small patrol of warriors to bring Tina here to the citadel," Ardeth continued in a lower tone of voice. "I do not trust Dareejah and would feel much happier once your wife is safe within these walls. I am also most anxious to meet this young woman who has so easily ensnared my cousin."

Ralon smiled slightly as he thought about his lovely and vibrant wife and the pending birth of their first child. "Agreed, my cousin," he murmured but the smile on his face disappeared moments later. "I am…I am quite happy that we have…I am…"

Ardeth raised an eyebrow over Ralon's uncharacteristic stammering. "That we have…?" he prompted with a twinkle in his eye.

"I am glad I stopped being foolish. I have missed you, Ardeth. I have blamed you for so much, and perhaps what I really needed was that beating from Kedar to open my eyes." Ralon blinked in surprise from the rush of his words and a slight blush crept onto his face.

Ardeth laughed and touched Ralon's forearm in a silent warning that Dareejah was coming. "Kedar would only be too happy to provide another one if the need arises," he said as Dareejah appeared in the doorway.

"How delightfully wonderful," Dareejah cooed as she sailed into the room. "It would seem that my little dinner party has been a success judging by how close the both of you are now. Why it felt as if I was not even in the same room with you both earlier; so much reminiscing and laughter. It was truly delightful."

"I enjoyed discussing our childhood memories; it has been far too long since these halls have echoed with the sound of laughter," Ardeth said as he poured a cup of tea for Dareejah. He thought nothing of it when she took the cup but never sipped the steaming brew.

"There is another matter that I wish to discuss," Ralon said as he walked over to a chair. "And I fear that this new topic will certainly dampen if not subdue the prevailing joviality."

"What in the name of Allah could this topic be for you to feel that you must give us both such a dire warning, Ralon?" Dareejah asked as she settled onto a divan near Ardeth, taking great care in rearranging her many flowing skirts.

Ralon glanced over at Ardeth and after seeing the slight nod of approval, he turned back to Dareejah. "I wish for the investigation of my father's murder to be reopened," he firmly stated.

Dareejah blinked in surprised and her gaze darted from Ardeth back to Ralon, the teacup poised in midair. "You wish for it to be reopened?" she asked incredulously. "Why would you wish to do this? This subject has caused enough tension and strife among…"

"I have agreed to this as well," Ardeth calmly interjected as he walked over to Ralon's chair. He placed a brotherly hand on Ralon's shoulder as a show of support while his dark gaze carefully observed Dareejah's reaction. "We, as a family, need this closure and after speaking at great length with Ralon, we believe there are too many inconsistencies, and far too many vague facts."

"Ardeth's signature was forged on official documents," Ralon added. "A crime has been committed and for the past year or so, the culprit has remained free of any charges while I wrongfully accused Ardeth for his lack of compassion and inadequacy in this matter. His voice has called out from his tomb for justice, and it is time to grant my father's soul the peace it deserves."

"Oh my," Dareejah murmured as she watched both men continue drinking the tea; mentally she kept track of the time and prayed that it would happen sooner than later. Emotionally she was reeling from this unexpected news but already her devious mind was formulating alternate plans to ensure the future she had envisioned for so long. It was almost within her grasp and she would allow nothing to take it away.

"So little response to Ralon's declaration, Dareejah," Ardeth said as he started walking around the divan, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "Has this topic distressed you? I know you loved my uncle very deeply and still mourn his passing like the good and loving wife that you are."

"I was a very good wife and aiwa, it is distressing. I had loved Alhasan very much, but you must understand that my hesitancy in accepting Ralon's statement is based on the possible effects of a new investigation. I am only thinking of Ralon and you, Ardeth, and this fledgling reconciliation. How horrible would it be if it were to shatter from unfounded accusations and half truths." Dareejah bestowed upon Ardeth a tremulous smile as she climbed off the divan, standing up. She walked over to the tea service and grabbed the ceramic pot, acting as the gracious hostess that had been her role for the evening as she refilled the men's cups.

"Your concern is most touching, but I must state that in the honor of your love, as well as honoring the memory of my father, we should all agree," Ralon said as he took another sip of the brew. He frowned for a moment, trying to concentrate on why the lingering aftertaste seemed somehow…_disturbing_. "The investigation will be reopened; Ardeth and I will petition the Elders first thing tomorrow morning."

"Then you must forgive me for what may appear to be a lack of enthusiasm for this…this petition," Dareejah dramatically sighed as she returned to the divan with a satisfied look on her face. "For you see, I will be questioned extensively by the Elders yet again regarding the events of that horrible night and…and I fear that I do not have the courage or the strength to relate this terrifying tale again."

"But you will persevere," Ralon firmly stated as he placed the teacup down on a small stand, and frowned when he saw his hand shaking. "You will do…whatever is necessary for this will also clear your name of any guilt."

"Of course, although it was already decided by a tribunal that I was not to blame for Alhasan's death," Dareejah murmured and appeared to acquiesce to Ralon's decision. "However I will do whatever you think is best…_ya __ibn_." (my son)

Ardeth had remained silent during most of the exchange, his concentration focused on what his warrior instincts were warning him about in the room. The conversation had flowed around him and he had lost track of what had been said as he stared at the dark liquid in his cup in odd fascination.

The term of endearment from Dareejah had sounded sarcastic and Ralon had almost rashly responded when the cup slipped from his fingers. He felt the color drain from his face and his mouth was strangely dry; horrific comprehension dawned on him but it was too late. "Ardeth…?" he rasped when he saw how pale his cousin's complexion had grown.

Ardeth uttered a strangled sound as he collapsed to his knees; the teacup fell out of his hand and rolled out onto the carpeted floor. He toppled over moments later and landed heavily on his side, groaning from the burning pain in his churning stomach.

"What…did you do?" Ralon croaked at Dareejah as he felt his body slip out of the chair. He landed on his hands and knees and started crawling towards Ardeth's deathly still body. "What…did you do!"

Dareejah smiled as she stood up, and calmly brushed any wrinkles from her skirts as the drama unfolded before her – all was going according to her plan. "I have no idea what you mean," she laughed as she stepped over Ralon's struggling body. "I must go and get help. That would be the wise thing to do, aiwa? Now do not go away, the best part of the evening has yet to come and I would be so disappointed if you were to miss my little surprise."

"Ardeth…" Ralon whispered as he crawled closer to his cousin, his heart racing with fear as his body was wracked with pain. "Ardeth…please be alive…please…"

Ardeth coughed and rolled over as a small trickle of blood seeped down from the corner of his mouth. Mutely he reached out for Ralon, and their hands almost touched – only a few more inches.

"SamaH ana…s-s-samaH ana…" (Forgive me) Ralon whispered over and over again until their hands were finally joined. "…s-should have known…she…she would do….this…"

"Please…believe…me," Ardeth gasped as he fought the urge to succumb to the poison's effects. "I…did…everything…in my power…t-t-to bring…murderer…to justice…you must…believe me…"

"Ardeth…" Ralon replied but stopped when Dareejah came back into the room accompanied by several of her personal guards.

"How touching – the cousins reunited even in death," Dareejah commented as she took a small dagger from her lover's hand. "I am quite certain this will go into the chronicles of our people as a very tragic tale of two men who could not find peace with the past and in the end, killed one another, much to the horrified dismay of the Lady."

"Do not…touch him…do not…" Ralon hissed and tried to protect Ardeth, believing Dareejah's intentions were to slice his throat but he stopped moving when she knelt down by his side.

"You should have believed your cousin, oh foolish boy," Dareejah sang softly into his ear, her breath warm and sweet. "You were so gullible, so easily blinded by a few tears and heartfelt pleas for understanding. You are pathetic. **_I_** killed your dear father – I killed Alhasan with my own hands and I did it because he was not fit to rule the Medjai. He was weak and narrow minded, lacking the vision needed to become a great leader, vision that I possess! So as you sink into the bittersweet embrace of the oblivion you so deserve, my dear stepson, take this comforting thought as my gift to you – there is nothing that can be done to save your precious Ardeth. Nothing."

As the darkness engulfed Ralon, tears of anguish welled up in his eyes and he felt his body being moved. It took him a moment to realize that he was being cradled in Dareejah's arms. Boldly her hands moved up and down his torso, lewdly touching his private parts in a repulsive manner as Dareejah continued whispering her vile lies. He tried to wriggle free but this last effort cost him dearly and he temporarily blacked out. When he came to moments later, he saw, with his fading vision, Dareejah approach Ardeth's body with the dagger poised in the air…

Dareejah stood up and pushed a few strands of hair away from her face with the back of one hand, having no desire to smear any of the blood on her skin as she surveyed her handiwork. She handed the pot of pig's blood to a nearby guard as a smile of malevolent delight appeared on her face, and she stepped forward for a closer look around the room.

It was all for appearances.

It appeared that a quarrel had led to this tragic end, that's what Dareejah would woefully tell the Elders during the inquisition. A quarrel that she had desperately tried to avert but the two stubborn men would not heed her wisdom or abide by her appeals for peace.

_It would appear_ that old bitterness, mistrust and misunderstanding were the catalysts that provoked the cousins beyond the edge of reason; Dareejah was only a mere woman. Her words had meant nothing to them, but still she valiantly tried to stop the quarrel from escalating. After all this was…or had been her family and now _it would appear_ that despite her best intentions for Ardeth and Ralon to reconcile, that was not meant to be.

Surely, the Elders would recall the times they had witnessed the cousins arguing? Ralon's deplorable behavior alone once he had returned to the citadel was incomprehensible and Ardeth seemed impervious to Dareejah's efforts to reunite the two men.

_It would appear_ that they quarreled over the death of Ralon's father yet again, a subject ripe with anger and frustration…

…_it would appear_ that the only means to end the dispute had been to duel with their daggers…

…that Ardeth inflicted most of the wounds on Ralon but in the end…

…_it would appear_ that both men died from their injuries.

All for appearances.

All for a greater purpose.

With Ardeth and Ralon now incapable of questioning her ascension, Dareejah would petition the Elders to initiate a new ruler of the Medjai…and what better candidate for them to consider than the grieving but loyal Lady, who has so admirably served the court so well over the past several weeks. Of course she would demand that her position as leader of her people be a temporary one until a suitable male candidate could be found, but Dareejah had no intentions of abdicating the throne once she was in power.

No one would take that away from her…not her lovers, not that bumbling idiot Itosh, and certainly not Thias.

"My lady, we must leave," a guard stated. "And you must call for assistance, as was agreed upon in previous discussions."

"Of course," Dareejah absently replied as she knelt down next to Ralon. With a motherly gesture alien to her nature, she brushed back the dark hair from his pale face, truly regretting that his life had to be sacrificed. She had harbored a faint hope that she could have convinced him to turn against Ardeth but he had been just as predictable as his father. Too honorable…too loyal…and unable to act without guidance from others.

"For the new kingdom," another guard said and he saluted Dareejah; the others quickly followed suit. As one, they bowed to the woman they believed to be the new ruler of the Medjai and then quickly fled from the room using a hidden passageway.

"For the new world," Dareejah murmured as she mussed her artfully coiffed hair and tore a small part of one sleeve on her dress. "And of course, for me…" she added on in a whisper as she tore the hem of one skirt and smeared blood on the tatters of it. Insane laughter suddenly bubbled up and spilled from her lips when she realized how close she was to claiming her goal. She basked in this blissful realization for a few valuable minutes and then composed herself so she could call for the royal guards.

Calling upon her considerable acting skills, Dareejah screamed and overturned a small table, shattering small dishes and cups. She cried out, pleading for the fighting to stop and smashed another piece of furniture as she worked her way towards the door. She pulled down a wall hanging and pulled up a small carpet near the bodies…it was all for appearances.

And when the door flew open, she spun around ready to embrace her would be rescuers as the required tears streamed down her face…

…but it was the bellow of rage that heralded the arrival of her unwanted guest that would haunt Dareejah for many nights to come.

She came to a trembling halt when she realized she had made a crucial error with the timing. It wasn't a loyal ally standing in the doorway, ready to draw her out of the room and comfort her. No, it wasn't Thias, whose honeyed words had always soothed in her the past, or Itosh and his blundering attempts to pacify her…oh no, it was someone far worse…someone whose dark eyes burned with a savage rage…someone who appeared ready to kill her for her transgressions.

It was Kedar Ishaq.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**A/N** – I thought to share this…when writing this last scene I was listening to "Vicarious" by Tool, and this excerpt from the song seems to fit __Dareejah__ quite well:_

"_I need to watch things die  
__From__ a good safe distance_

_Vicariously I, _

_live__ while the whole world dies  
Much better you than I"_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Part 8**_

_**Same day - evening**_

_**Cairo, Bijan's home**_

_**1999**_

_Cecelia peered into the small shopping bag the restaurant had given them, and then glanced over at Jamie with a knowing smile on her face. "Are we trying to feed an army or just one handsome warrior?" she teased as they reached the front door of Bijan's home. _

"_Make that one stubborn warrior and bingo; you got it," Jamie laughed as she juggled her own bag while searching for the house key. "I thought to order some extra in case Eric and Zayn would grace us with their presence today. Is it me or do they seem obsessed about reading those manuals you told me about the other day?"_

_Cecelia pursed her lips as Jamie opened the door. "Obsessed is a good word," she mused as they walked down the tiled foyer. "How about fixated?"_

"_Same thing," Jamie said as they walked into the living room._

"_Engrossed," Cecelia offered with a laugh._

"_Same thing," Jamie turned around and spotted Eric and Zayn on the couch. "Hey guys," she started to say but stopped when they heard Sharif's cry._

"_Shit," Eric cursed as he shot off the couch and bolted towards the sliding glass doors. "That sounded bad, real bad."_

"_What's going on? Where is Sharif?" Jamie called out fearfully._

"_In the garden," Zayn replied and ran over, grabbing her hand. "Ija, we need you."_

_With Cecelia behind them, all four people raced out into the court yard and frantically began searching for Sharif, unaware of who they were about to discover instead._

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"_Yaha," Makin cursed and unceremoniously shoved Bijan aside. "That was Sharif…"_

_The warriors, Traveler, and detective ran through the wrought iron gate and flowed out into the garden's courtyard, stopping in abrupt amazement when they came across the other concerned and frantic occupants of the house._

_For a few tense moments each side studied the other, and Cecelia's face paled when she recognized one of the large warriors standing next to Bijan. "I know him," she whispered as memories from another time came flooding back. _

…Jameel's eyes widened in surprise at her sudden outburst and he glanced over at a tall, silent warrior who stood watching over them, his arms folded across his huge chest. He shrugged helplessly and the warrior coughed once to hide his laughter. "She is nervous, ya ukh," he had explained.

"Indeed," Makin had murmured…

"_Where is Sharif?" Bijan snapped impatiently._

"_He was resting here a few minutes ago," Zayn pointed to the bench as his gaze swept over the area looking for any indication where Sharif could have gone._

"_Well he's not resting there now," Bijan fumed and jabbed a finger at the Traveler in an unexpected display of anger. "You were supposed to watch over him, yet once again he disappears while under your care."_

"_Mind your actions, Guardian," Lahab warned. He could feel the tension emanating from the two men and placed a restraining hand on Zayn's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. "Traveler Zayn is a highly respected Traveler and we should allow him the opportunity to…" _

_Zayn bristled from Bijan's accusatory tone of voice and squared his shoulders, his dark eyes blazing as his own temper flared. "I have done everything in my power to return him to his world, going beyond the boundaries of my duty."_

_Makin turned away from the disputing combatants and found Cecelia staring up at him in wide eyed wonder. A slight smile curved his lips from her reaction and he gave her a slight bow of respect, knowing that this was the woman who unwittingly held his chieftain's heart. "Ya sitti," he murmured. "I wish our reunion had happened under pleasant circumstances." _

"_I remember you," Cecelia whispered and reached out, touching Makin's large forearm. It felt real and incredibly solid and she almost felt giddy with relief. She glanced over at Jamie, unable to hide the goofy grin on her face. "I know him," she repeated._

"_I would hope so," Jamie quipped as she stared at both of the massive warriors, wondering if they were all that large in Sharif's world._

"_Ajab…I must ask, do you know where Sharif is?" asked another warrior that Cecelia didn't recognize. The kindness in his eyes took away the blunt edge to the tone of his voice, and she responded with a negative shake of her head. "Jamie and I were out buying lunch, and had just gotten back when…"_

_Another cry shattered the awkward gathering and propelled Jamie into a frantic flight. "Over here!" she called out as she ran towards a shady spot located in the south corner of the home. She ignored the warning shouts from Bijan and Zayn and ran down the tiled walkway, determined to save Sharif. _

"_Cease your quarrelling. Now is not the time to discuss the other's responsibility," Emir crisply ordered Bijan and Zayn as they followed the others. "The life of a warrior hangs in the balance, and I refuse to lose Sharif Rafe due to the incompetence of a Guardian and Traveler."_

"_But I can save him," Zayn exclaimed. "I have a theory that may work whereas normal procedure has failed."_

"_A theory?" Lahab asked as he trailed behind everyone. "What possible theory could there be that has not already been discussed by the Elders and the council in regards to a degeneration?"_

"_Now is not the time for theories," Bijan hissed when they approached Jamie and Cecelia. Eric stood next to Makin and Solman as they crowded around something lying on the ground in front of them. "Sharif does not have time for theories…"_

"_It would appear that Sharif may not have time for anything," Eric stated sadly. "Game over, man. Game over."_

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"_No," Jamie whimpered as she tried to reach for Sharif, but Bijan looped his arm around her waist, holding her back. She fought against him, desperate to reach Sharif before he completely disappeared, but his form was shimmering and fading too rapidly. "Let me go, I have to help him. Please!"_

"_We must let this take its predetermined course." Bijan tried to sooth a distraught Jamie as she bucked against him. "Touching him will only make it worse."_

"_No!" Jamie shouted as images from her reoccurring dream tormented her. Sharif's form was growing weaker as the transition continued at an alarming rate, and it broke her heart to see the defeated look in his eyes. _

"_Release her," Zayn sternly ordered and pulled on Bijan's arm. "This is part of my theory and it could work; I have done the research."_

"_Bijan – let her go, it may help Sharif," Emir said._

"_It may not," Lahab interjected, still puzzled over Zayn's reference to a 'theory'._

"_Ya saHib," Makin whispered sadly as he and Solman edged closer to their warrior brother, their best friend. They knelt down and both warriors tentatively reached for him as Sharif raised his hand…a hand with the fading marks of their tribe._

"_Musa'adi…ana," Sharif begged as the outline of his body grew fainter._

"_Someone please help him," Cecelia urged and turned to Eric. "Do something," she pleaded with tears in her eyes. _

_Eric pulled his gaze from the horrific sight of Sharif dissolving to Jamie caught in the power struggle between Bijan, Zayn, and a stranger; each heatedly arguing with the other and oblivious to everything else. He looked at the two large warriors kneeling close to Sharif, and he knew that somehow they were more than just good friends; their grief over losing him was most profound. He heard one of them whisper, "Sharif ya sahib" over and over, and the recent lessons in Arabic provided the necessary translation._

"_Eric?" Cecelia asked._

"_Aw hell. Ya know everyone may hate me in the morning for this but…" Eric muttered as he hurried over to Jamie. He pulled her from Bijan and Zayn's grasp, and before they could react, he gently pushed Jamie to Sharif hoping…no **praying** that his friend's theory was right._

_With a small cry of happiness, Jamie ran to Sharif moments before his body vanished. She ignored Bijan's angry shout of denial and darted around the two warriors hovering over him, pushing aside any lingering doubts. This was part of her dream, and now it was terribly real. The outcome had to change…it must change! She couldn't let Sharif die, not before she told him what was in her heart. _

_As soon as Jamie's hand touched Sharif's almost nonexistent body, a bright light flared up and temporarily blinded everyone and they turned away, shielding their faces until the glow disappeared…and all they heard was the frantic sound of Jamie's voice…_

"_Breatheforme…breathe…one…two…three…c'mon…breatheforme damn it…oh please…one…two…three…"_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_**Six days later**_

_**Egypt July 1925**_

_**25 miles southwest of el-Dakhla Oasis**_

_**Ruins of Foreign Legion Fort Reliance near the deserted town of Balad min Amal (Town of Hope)**_

_**Dusk **_

"Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

"Why do you keep saying that, Eric?" Zayn asked as he stared out at the rolling landscape situated well beyond the narrow view from his cell window. His arms hung partially through the bars and he could feel the day's heat dissipate, much like his hopes of being released.

"I dunno," Eric shrugged. He was sitting a few feet away in one corner on the dirt floor, mindlessly throwing small sticks and pebbles to idle away the time. He was tired, dirty, confused, and he swore something unsavory had crawled into his 'borrowed' robes, irritating him right above his navel. "Just seems appropriate considering the circumstances, and somehow I don't think you wanna hear my rendition of "Swing Low Sweet Chariot" again,"

Zayn smiled faintly as he turned away from the window. "If your previous performances are any indication of your meager talent, loud and off-key, then by all means, please do so. I relish the opportunity to remind our…_hosts_ that we are still here and waiting patiently for a meeting."

"Explain to me why these Helper Sect guys would step in so aggressively in a matter that doesn't concern them?" Eric asked as he scratched his itchy skin, instantly regretting that he had naively believed the robes came from a clothes line in a downtown Cairo neighborhood. They needed a thorough cleaning and he grimaced at the thought of what or who may have worn them previously. However, Zayn had stressed the importance of blending in with the culture, and Eric had to agree – no one in this world wore Wrangler jeans or Nike sneakers. He just wished Zayn had warned him about how coarse the fabric truly was, especially where it rubbed against certain 'parts' of his body.

Eric would have gladly sold his soul for a container of talcum powder.

"Helper Sects do what the title implies – they assist in whatever is required and whenever the need for them arises, and it is mostly with the Warrior Sect. They are the contacts with the 'outside' world and keep the Warrior Sect informed of activities, especially near certain historical cities that have been deemed rich in archeological heritage."

"Gotcha. And they kidnapped us why?" Eric prompted.

Zayn sighed and turned away from the window as a frown creased his brow. The weight of his responsibilities seemed heavy on his shoulders this night and he wondered if he had made an error in judgment by bringing back those who didn't belong. "Helper Sects have guidelines or rules if you wish to call them, which date back over three thousand years designed to keep our society out of public interest. If something bad should happen within our civilization that could alert the world to our presence, all of the sects are put on alert and ordered to maintain a code of silence. I believe something has most likely happened since we were apprehended to enforce this silence."

Eric leaned his head back and hooted with laughter, earning a look of concern from Zayn. He wiped a tear from one eye and finally elaborated moments later. "It just struck me as kind of funny – 'something must have happened.' Gee, do ya think? That's like when you told me not to wear underwear under these robes, which by the way I'm commando here and I'm telling ya it ain't liberating. And don't say it's because cotton wasn't invented yet because I'm not buying into that, okay?"

"You are digressing, ya saHib," Zayn said softly as he walked over and sat down next to his friend.

"Damn right I'm digressing, all this waiting around is driving me friggin' nuts," Eric grumbled and flung a handful of dirt against the far wall in frustration. He remained silent for a few moments, and then finally turned to Zayn, his green eyes troubled. "Dude, they herded us through that market like we were camels, and never gave us a chance to explain. They took Cecelia and Jamie in another car and God knows where they are right now…" his voice trailed off since he was unwilling to voice his fears over the women's safety.

Zayn sighed and placed a hand on Eric's shoulder, wishing that he could impart more than just comfort; he wanted some answers as well. "Never before have I seen the city in such a state of organized chaos," he mused softly, easing back against the stone wall. "My people seem afraid to travel the streets, and I cannot contact the one Helper who was assigned to help with this transition. It is as if he has disappeared."

"That's not very comforting to know, Zayn," Eric muttered.

Zayn nodded as his mind drifted back over the past several days, trying to mentally pinpoint or discover a glaring indication that all was not right in his world. The journey through the desert, which could have been a difficult trek, had been made much easier thanks to Emir's generous donation of supplies and his new found confidence. The departure from the other world had effectively silenced any further criticism from Bijan and Zayn had felt redeemed in his role as a Traveler. With Lahab's blessing, he had easily guided the small party out of one world, and into the next, believing that he was fulfilling his role and sacred duty to his king and to his people.

Problems arose even before the sand had settled, and before anyone could object, Commander Jericho ibn Sakhr appeared like a mirage to whisk away his warriors, including a weary and still recovering Sharif. Despite Jamie's tearful protests or Zayn's claim to have the authority to take the missing warrior back to the Citadel, Jericho reluctantly ordered his warriors to leave. To his credit, he tried to soften his immediate departure with a few words of reassurance, but they lacked the substance needed and only served to unnerve the small party of time travelers.

"If you'll pardon the expression, it seems the proverbial shit has hit the fan in your hometown, my man," Eric said. "Here I am promising Cecelia and Jamie that I would take care of them, and that I wouldn't let anything happen to them. Some protector I turned out to be."

"You are a good friend, Eric," Zayn firmly stated. "Do not let this temporary setback disillusion you."

Eric snorted. "Temporary setback? If you call us being stuck in this stockade a temporary setback, then I can't wait to see how you'll react if and when our good hosts ever decide to talk to us."

Zayn frowned at Eric, and chose to ignore his comments. "In reference to your colorful metaphor regarding the current situation at hand, I can only assume that this is the beginning of the trouble. The Helper Sects are acting according to 'Ramiq Waqa, il Dau nur ikhtafa' or roughly translated, 'Darkness has fallen, for our light has vanished or disappeared.' It is a code phrase used among the sects when a tragedy has occurred," Zayn stated. "If the portal between the worlds now stands unguarded since Jericho and Emir's warriors were pulled from duty this means the enemy has been able to explore the rift in preparation for future use. Without knowing for certain what has transpired during my absence, all I can offer is that my chieftain must be in grave danger for the warrior sect to no longer have any authority."

"I really hate this; I just want to know what's going on," Eric stated very softly after a few tense moments of silence. His shoulders had slumped slightly and he was unable to meet Zayn's gaze. "You get us dumped into your world, promising that there would be people here to greet us and help us get situated and so far, it's been a rollercoaster ride of sleepless nights, hot days, and…" Eric paused and jabbed a finger at the cell's door and the guard that waited a few feet beyond. "Unfriendly locals."

Zayn shifted on the hard ground as he settled in for another long cold night spent in the cell, folding his arms across his chest. "Have faith, ya sahib. The Helper Sects would never harm a Traveler or those in a Traveler's care, no matter the danger."

"Yeah but this 'grave danger' is something no one wants to elaborate on, but instead would rather remain delightfully ambiguous about it," Eric retorted.

The two men lapsed into silence for a few moments, one filled with a multitude of doubts and concerns for himself and his friends, the other wondering if the life he had previously known, the friends and comrades he had come to care for were gone forever…

"So Zayn, my man," Eric said a few minutes later, his gaze skimming around the dusty cell as he attempted to lighten the mood; he had to for it was in his nature. "Any possibility of getting room service in a joint like this?"

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_A/N - sorry for the lapse in updates. Upon returning from vacation, real life has gotten more complicated, if possible, but happily I've been able to get some key scenes squared away in the past few weeks. Oh, and if you think the ride has been bumpy now, you ain't seen nothing yet. evil grin _


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 9**

**_Later that evening…  
The Guardians Citadel "Il _****_Wasi_****_Qal'a_****_"  
Lady _****_Dareejah's_****_ private solarium_**

A thousand candles had been lit as if to dispel the gloom but the constant flickering and fluttering of the flames made garish shadows and shapes dance across the walls of the room as if alive. A cold wind occasionally blew in through the open doors, and billowed out the sheer curtains, drawing them into thin panels of fabric shaped like skeletal fingers…

…fingers that seemed to be reaching for Dareejah as she studied the worn page of a manuscript.

Clouds skittered across the face of the full moon, and periodically, bright spikes of light would shine through the doors, casting an eerie glow on the carpeted floor. It was if a great battle was being waged between darkness and light within Dareejah's room and as she allowed herself to be consumed with the thirst for more power, the shadows grew in size and strength.

Mirrianna, Dareejah's faithful handmaiden, stood off to one side and kept a nervous but vigilant eye on her mistress. In her slightly trembling hands she held a tray of partially eaten food, and she quickly blinked away the tears that a sharp reprimand had produced. Blindly devoted, Mirrianna would stay until her mistress had need of her, or until she was overcome by exhaustion, the latter happening more often than not over the past several weeks.

The oppressive sense of evil that hovered in the room almost constantly now made Mirrianna shiver in fear, and the containers on the tray rattled slightly. Fearful that her lady would scold her again for her carelessness, Mirrianna was saved from apologizing when one of Dareejah's personal guards hurried into the room.

"Counselor Thias to see you, ya sitti" the guard announced nervously as he gave a deep bow, his gaze averted so he would be spared from seeing his mistress' anger.

"That is the fourth time you have announced him," Dareejah mused as she turned the page of the worn manuscript, absorbed in trying to decipher the location of a certain book she now needed for her plans. She pursed her lips and arched an eyebrow as she leisurely turned another page. "One must wonder how many times you will announce him, especially when I have given strict orders not to be disturbed."

The guard swallowed nervously and glanced over at Mirrianna, as if seeking her assistance; his face paled when she quickly looked away. "He is determined to be granted an audience, and…" he started to quickly explain.

"And I will not be denied an audience, Dareejah. You, of all people, should know me well enough by now to realize that what I want, I will eventually get," Thias stated as he marched into the room, his movements agitated as he started pacing in front of Dareejah's writing desk that was littered with papers.

"Of course." Dareejah blessed Thias with a dazzling yet indulgent smile as she dismissed the guard, and then began shuffling the documents on the table. And she took great pains to hide the books dated from a future world that she had every intention of exploring, and conquering, especially since she had stolen them from their hiding place.

However, Thias was quicker and before she could stop him, he snatched up the literature she had been reading, and quickly scanned the contents. He stopped reading halfway down the page, and looked at the woman sitting before him in astonishment. "Have you gone mad?" he roared as he shook the paper in a clenched fist. "Why in the name of Allah would you wish to obtain the Book of the Dead? Is it not enough for you to have stolen my slave, now you desire to resurrect the priest and add that to your growing list of sins!"

"Leave us," Dareejah crisply ordered Mirrianna and turned back to a fuming Thias, her mind feverishly trying to think of a way to placate her old ally. However, arrogance and pride in her accomplishments over the past several days overrode any sentimentality for her old lover, and Dareejah clasped her hands as she coldly assessed him. What had she ever seen in him, this preening, and power hungry peacock? "Are you done shouting at me, or do you wish to continue, further embarrassing yourself since I am most certain even the Elders can hear you?"

Thias' mouth snapped shut and he threaded his fingers through his hair in frustration, struggling to control his temper. Suddenly he decided to try a different approach. "What are you doing, maHabbi?" he asked softly, beseechingly and for the effect of it, he held out his hands as if in entreaty. "I thought you and I shared a vision of our world in a future where there are no Elders, no Guardians, and no one to stop us from being in complete control. You and I were going to rule two worlds and…"

"You bought a slave to warm your bed," Dareejah peevishly interrupted. She walked over to a looking glass mounted on one wall, and immediately smoothed back a few errant tendrils of hair from her face. Realizing that Thias was watching, she surreptitiously let her hands wander down the slim column of her neck, her fingers lightly dancing across her collarbone before slowly drawing them down the fragrant valley between her lush breasts. The sheer fabric of her night clothes drew taut from the light pull of her hands and cleverly accentuated her womanly figure until they finally came to rest by her side. A feline sense of pride overcame her when she realized Thias had been enthralled by her display and she tilted her head to one side and pouted very prettily for her old lover, confident in her charms. "Did you honestly think I would not find out?"

Thias refused to mop the perspiration from his brow even as his eyes greedily drank in the delicate vision of Dareejah standing before him. She had take great care in choosing her attire for the evening, knowing the fabric and style of the dress would emphasize her mature beauty, making Khori's youthful appeal fade in comparison. And then Thias' eyes widened when he realized Dareejah was jealous. "She is…or _was_ supposed to aid me in my own ambitions; nothing more, nothing less. You disrupted all of my carefully laid plans by poisoning Ardeth and Ralon, ruining what chances I may have had of a successful rebellion!"

"A rebellion that would have lasted all but a day or so before the warrior sect would crush it like a ripe melon. I chose to get to the heart of the matter, and removed two obstacles which in turn immobilized the warrior sect," Dareejah stated in rebuttal and flounced back to the table, furiously gathering up some of the papers.

"Your 'removal' of said obstacles was indeed most unexpected, and while I am certainly delighted by the ensuing chaos among the Elders, I loathe pointing out the obvious flaws in your daring little plan," Thias purred as he walked around the table, a loving and indulgent smile on his face. "You should have consulted me first and then perhaps we would be having a different conversation in the royal forum rather than in your quarters."

"My plan has no flaws," Dareejah snapped as she shoved some of the papers into a lopsided pile. "Name one of them."

"Kedar Ishaq," Thias stated with relish as he came around and stood by Dareejah's side.

The mere mention of the commander's name sent an inner tremor of fear racing through Dareejah, and she leaned forward, placing her hands on top of the table as she struggled to contain her composure. The sting of his rejection had greatly wounded the confidence she held in her feminine wiles, and she desperately latched onto the anger and frustration that always fueled her actions. Feeling an icy calm sweep over her, Dareejah stood up and faced Thias, her face a cool mask of indifference and poise. "A small oversight that can be easily rectified."

Thias snorted in disbelief. "A rather loud oversight, if I may express my opinion, since in a short period of time he has managed to rally the Warrior Sect from such a tragic loss. But I know that you took their undying loyalty to their chieftain and his family into consideration and were quite prepared for the Helper Sects' intervention. How fortunate it was for them to come to the aid of the warriors, do you not agree?"

"Kedar's untimely appearance at the dining hall that night was a slight miscalculation of timing," Dareejah stated, glaring at Thias.

"Miscalculations, oversights, poor timing. Tsk, ya maHabbi, you have expended so much energy in the pursuit of the throne, so I know the Elders' hesitation in granting your petition must be frustrating. Even with the absence of the Bay family and its influence over those old men, they still cannot decide on whom to appoint as a new ruler."

"And I am most certain that you have gladly offered them several suggestions of your own, dear Thias," Dareejah said as she abruptly gestured for him to move and sauntered past him towards a small table holding a tray of refreshments. "All of them, which I know, the Elders graciously denied. I can imagine your level of annoyance must equal my own."

"Your knowledge about the Elders' indecision is impressive, considering your absence from court," Thias grudgingly admitted. "And you and I are at an impasse yet we both struggle to achieve the same goal. Can we not put aside our differences for the moment, and dare I suggest this, but once again work together? It would be like before, only better because now our dream is only moments away from being realized."

Dareejah pretended to be preoccupied in preparing a cup of tea and finally turned around to acknowledge Thias' ludicrous suggestion, a sly smile on her face. "La," she simply replied and took a delicate sip of the steaming brew.

Thias arched an eyebrow in astonishment from Dareejah's reply. "I am certain I heard you incorrectly, did I not?" he asked quietly.

Dareejah took another sip of tea and smiled, greatly amused over Thias' bewilderment. The time for play had come to an end, and so had Dareejah's patience with Thias. She walked over to him and began walking around his body, weaving her web of deceit. "While you have been playing with your new pet, and trying to sooth the Elders into believing you are the perfect candidate for chieftain, _I _have been preparing for a more daring strike," she whispered in a venomous voice as she continued walking. "As you expound on the injustices of world and how tragic it was for us to lose Ardeth and Ralon, _I_ have investigated the circumstances of that night and am close to learning the truth. I do not need you any more, Thias. You have served your limited use for me, and will serve a new purpose as an obstacle between myself and the Elders."

"You are denying my suggestion?" Thias asked incredulously, his arrogant mind unable to comprehend just how powerful and daring Dareejah had grown over the past several weeks. "Without me you are nothing! I have been the one whose honeyed words have soothed the Elders, diverted the attention away from you…I have done…"

"You have done nothing but allow your manhood to think for you," Dareejah replied softly as she ran the tip of one finger around the rim of the cup, delighted that he followed her as she finally walked away from him and back to the table. "Your judgment has been clouded by a mere slip of a girl who would gladly plunge her knife into your treacherous heart in lieu of her loyalty; your lust has blinded you to the truth. Therefore, I have engaged her services and found her most suitable for a new task which she is completing now even as we speak."

Much to his eternal horror, Thias was reduced to a sputtering fool as he watched Dareejah slowly walk away from him, her body swaying enticingly with each step. "Y-y-you cannot…I will not….this is an outrage….I will…" he said as he ran after her.

"Do whatever I order you to do, and if your performance is satisfactory, your rewards will be most fitting," Dareejah declared and when the poor speechless councilor stopped in front of her, she gave him an tolerant smile as she reached up, gently stroking his face. "Poor Thias-still clinging to your misconceptions about all that was once familiar and comfortable to you; it no longer exists. I stand on the threshold of complete power, and I alone control the forces at work, both human and…inhuman. If the Elders are too frightened and incompetent to grant my petition, then I shall revert to my original plans, and seize the throne as I should have done months ago."

"The rumors are true then," Thias whispered as he staggered back from Dareejah's cold touch, and felt the color drain from his face. His eyes were wide with horrible comprehension and to his revulsion, a grudging respect for the woman standing before him who had dared so much. "They whisper that you are in control of…these _beings_, neither living nor dead, that exist only to serve your foul purposes. Our people hide each night in their homes from the fear that your minions will come and drag them off to do your bidding, never to be seen again. They murmur about the pockets of black magic you have released into the kingdom, causing further confusion and chaos…ya Allah, what have you become?"

Insane laughter bubbled up from Dareejah's black soul and spilled out, the sound both chilling and maniacal. She extended her arms out to the sides and threw her head back as her mirth eventually subsided. "What have I become, dear Thias?" she asked as her head snapped down, revealing the unholy gleam in her dark eyes. "I have become…stronger, more confident…and aiwa, oh hulu Allah aiwa, I control the Soulless ones." She spun around and fumbled for the paper containing the incantations for the mask shards. Lovingly she spread the pieces across the table top and waved a hand over them as the spell eagerly tumbled from her lips. She closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment, aware that Thias was watching her every movement in captivated silence. Only when she felt the familiar rush of power race through her body, heralding the Soulless Ones' impending arrival, did she turn back to her old lover, blessing him with a malicious smile. And for a moment she marveled that he was cowering to one side.

"The rumors are true," she announced with a deep throaty laugh. Her mercurial moods switched as she shook her fist in the air and her lips curled back in a defiant sneer. "It is time to silence the disbelievers, and bring the mighty hierarchy to its knees! I want them _begging_ me to become the new ruler! It is time for a small demonstration of the power that I hold within my hands, and you," she swept out one arm and pointed to him, proclaiming him responsible for her drastic actions. "You are to blame for their downfall, Thias. _You_ are the one that goaded me into doing this!"

"Me? Ir-raHman Allah, did…did just you summon them?" Thias croaked as he felt the fine hairs on his neck rise. A sense of foreboding swept through his body, chilling him to his soul and Thias swore that the woman he once loved no longer existed. In her place was a woman who had gladly shown him the depths of her desire to become the new ruler of the Medjai. The thirst for power had corrupted and purged any goodness from Dareejah, leaving in its place a stranger with an insatiable appetite for more, always more. She was like the succubus that he had heard Kedar once call her, and for the first time in his career as councilor to the Elders, the arrogant bravery that had always served Thias in the past suddenly crumbled to the ground in a cloud of dust, leaving the man shaken and very much afraid.

Dareejah's face contorted into an expression of sublime pleasure as she felt the Soulless Ones draw near and she gestured at Thias with one claw-like hand. "You may leave me now and wait for further orders. By dawn, you will hear news of the Warrior Sect being eradicated and if I am feeling generous, you may join in me in celebrating the beginning of a new era for our people."

Thias' mouth dropped open when he saw several apparitions appear behind Dareejah, their earthly manifestation no longer consisting of skin and bones. A cold wind suddenly whipped through the room, and the ghostly tendrils of the undead floated around Dareejah's body, swelling the ends of her gown until both entities seemed joined. She seemed oblivious to the price she would have to pay for harnessing the power of the Soulless Ones, and Thias suddenly lacked the fortitude to inform her.

He fled from the chamber as if a swarm of locusts were after him, and he didn't stop running until he found Itosh. Then with his loyal friend by his side, Thias composed himself and frantically tried to determine the next best course of action that would ensure he triumphed over a mad woman.

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"It looks like…hummus, bread, goat cheese, and some fruit," Jamie announced as she looked over the containers of food that had been brought earlier. "Are you in the mood to eat anything or does your stomach still feel queasy?"

Cecelia had been leaning against the wall near the window and been mildly fascinated with the moon rising, its low berth in the dark sky somehow reminding her of home. Memories of a happy childhood spent gazing at the moon during a hot summer night had temporarily lifted Cecelia's spirits, but in the process it also made her extremely homesick. And with the homesickness came the doubts – had she done the right thing in coming here? Would Ardeth even remember her? Would there be something beyond the physical attraction she felt for him, or would they only be granted that brief moment in time?

With a sigh, Cecelia adjusted her borrowed veil, tucking the ends of it behind her ears, and walked over to Jamie, curiosity about the food driving her actions more than hunger. "They seem to be treating us well, despite the present accommodations," she murmured as she sat down next to her friend. She noticed her hands were shaking, and her gaze flew up to meet Jamie's knowing one; immediately she dropped them into her lap.

Jamie reached over and patted Cecelia's forearm in silent understanding, and then pulled apart the bread. "We're just tired, that's all," she said as she offered Cecelia a small piece.

"You know, lying on a beach somewhere in Greece doesn't sound so bad right about now," Cecelia teased, her eyes sparkling with a rare display of humor. "I can just imagine Sharif walking around in nothing but a thong bikini, all that muscular skin a dark golden bronze, and looking like Adonis while you're wiping your mouth with a beach towel."

Jamie giggled. "Sharif would so not wear a banana sack, and since when are you fantasizing about my warrior? Fantasize about your own."

Cecelia grinned as she nibbled on the bread. "So you admit that if he were to wear swim trunks on the beach, you would still be wiping your mouth rather than cavorting with him in the ocean?"

Jamie playfully pinched Cecelia's arm. "First of all, I don't 'cavort' and second, I have no problem whatsoever if Sharif wants to wear swim trunks. Although I'm kind of partial to the ones that just happen to slip down the waist a little, exposing those indentations on the side…you know the ones I'm talking about."

Cecelia's smiled faded as she wondered if she would ever think of Ardeth beyond the limited memories that her troubled heart and mind kept producing. The two women fell into a companionable silence as Cecelia thought about the past several days; they were exhausted and simply craved nothing more than a long hot bath and the chance to sleep in a comfy bed for a few days.

The four day ride towards the check point that Zayn had chosen had seemed interminable, and the sweltering heat of the day coupled with the chill of the night had rapidly drained what remaining strength Cecelia and her friends had. Zayn eventually apologized for setting such a harsh pace, stating that they were unused to this climate and that this was his world, his time; they were blissfully ignorant that the desert was a harsh but beautiful mistress.

The hours were idled away with lessons from Zayn on how to survive, both in the Sahara and as part of the Medjai; his impromptu instruction turned out to be a blessed distraction. They helped stem the endless flow of questions and jokes from Eric, and had unwittingly served to bolster Cecelia's sagging confidence, affirming that she did indeed belong in this world. Jamie was simply acting like a sponge, as Eric had aptly called her onenight, absorbing everything in the hopes that her transition would be an easy one.

Time had passed pleasantly enough but their arrival in town at the predetermined location had unsettled the small band of travelers, and foolishly Zayn had decided to wait an additional twenty four hours in the hopes that his contact would arrive. What came instead were several small groups of men, who seemed to have little patience and liking for their task. Astonishingly enough, all of them were kidnapped in broad daylight and quickly transported out of town, arriving at the ruins of an old fort by nightfall.

Separated from the men, Cecelia and Jamie had been firmly guided to what would serve as their room for the nights to come, or as their prison cell as Jamie had bleakly called it. The hours of the day were spent trying to remain cool and coaxing their taciturn guard to talk to them, hopefully revealing some much needed news about Eric and Zayn. The nights were worse as the temperatures dropped once the sun set, but their captors took the necessary precautions to ensure that the women were warm and comfortable for the night.

Cecelia dropped the rest of the uneaten pita onto the tray and climbed to her feet, resuming her vigilant position by the window. If she stood up on her toes, she could see across the courtyard and wholeheartedly believed that she would see someone come through the gates very soon…someone dressed in black, riding a prancing stallion…someone whose dark eyes would be alight with happiness as he rode closer…someone who had saved her before, and would undoubtedly save her again.

"Behold a dark rider," she murmured. Dejectedly Cecelia rested her forehead against the cold stone wall near the window as she peered out into the gathering darkness, wishing with all of her woman's heart that Ardeth would miraculously appear…

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_A brief note: a recent review from an anon. person read,_ _"poisoned tea? Pigs blood? Has someone been reading Harem Nights recently?" _

_To reply in the most honest and sincere way possible, yes I have and how could I not be inspired? I emailed Nakhti in regards to this matter, and we're cool so props to her and her magnificent story, "Harem Nights" for inspiring. And to pay homage to the classics, props out to Stephen King's "Carrie" and "Arsenic and Old Lace" as well. I could ramble on a bit further about this but I believe that's not allowed now. Feel free to email me if you wish...and of course, thanks for stopping by and reading. _


	10. Chapter 10

**_Northeastern section of the Royal Gardens  
The Guardians Citadel "Il _****_Wasi_****_Qal'a_****_"  
Midnight_**

"Draw your weapons! Swords out and stay alert," Dharr al Rushdi tersely ordered the nine other warriors as he paced around the doorway leading out of the city. Over the years, the opening had been covered with thick vegetation and they had lost precious time to clearing away as much of the clinging vines and trees as possible. Engrossed with the task at hand, he had allowed them to relax their guard, and had almost remained blissfully unaware of the slight and increasingly tense change in the atmosphere.

He looked up to check the moon's position as a way of gauging how much time had passed, and blinked in surprise when he saw that the silver orb had been partially covered by spiky wisps of clouds. Dharr frowned and shook his head, certain that his mind was playing tricks on him from exhaustion.

He observed that the clouds had now turned into a thick, gray colored mist, and the mass was pulsing, seething as it trickled down from the sky and rolled across the ground several yards in front of him. It curled and unrolled as it glided across the grass like silken fabric, undulating and rippling as it slowly, steadily grew in size.

"Ir-raHman Allah," Dharr whispered in disbelief when the vapor shifted again, and he could distinguish distinct shapes within it, figures that looked oddly human and horribly misshapen as they matured and solidified. He pulled his weapon free with practiced ease and its metallic ring echoed through the night as skeletal fingers formed, reaching for them as the mist continued its deadly journey. "La id! La id! To arms! Yousef, Maroud…guard the doorway! Firdaus, Butrus! Take two warriors and follow the path towards the south, I want you to intercept Commander al Faud and inform him there has been a change of plans. Tell him he must leave the citadel now!"

As the warriors quickly dispersed to obey their orders, Dharr and the remaining three warriors stood in front of the opening, their weapons drawn and legs braced far apart as the ghostly vapor rose up before them, its tendrils flailing in the air.

"What in the name of Allah is that?" one of the warriors whispered in disbelief.

"The enemy. Do not engage unless I give the command," Dharr ordered and tightened his grip on the hilt of his weapon, his mouth a grim line of determination.

Suddenly the mist exploded, splintering into a thousand pieces as a chorus of inhuman howls of fury and pain filled the air. Dark apparitions darted through the air, some flying off towards the warriors that were running down the pathway, while others instantly attacked those left behind. They screamed and cursed, mouths opening like a black yawning chasm of the damned and their boney, claw-like hands reached for the hearts and souls of their prey.

Dharr uttered a prayer for divine guidance and safety as he braced himself for the charge, and as the undead grew closer with frightening speed, his sherry colored eyes widened in surprise when suddenly one of them passed through him. Coldness unlike any he had ever known raced through his body and his scimitar dropped from his deadened hand; moments later he sank to his knees. Before Dharr slipped into a frozen oblivion, more of the Soulless Ones attacked him, swirling around him as their screams reached a terrifying crescendo. And then he knew nothing except an icy blackness that rapidly drained what light and warmth was left in his soul.

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Khori somehow had managed to hold back her cry of despair when the warriors were attacked by the undead, and she instantly reacted to the threat by pulling her _darrod-aj_ dagger from the leather ankle sheath in defense. She braced her body against the tree limb to ensure she wouldn't fall and in mute horror she watched from her safe vantage point the lopsided battle below.

Her heartbeat skipped and then accelerated as the warriors she had come to know, the men she had observed for so many days, were easily cut down like ripe wheat. The phantoms held no mercy, no compassion, and seemed eager to obey their mistress' command; the wary assassin who had firmly believed no man was worth redemption almost wept from the staggering loss.

And then she uttered a curse for her stupidity in allowing her curiosity to rule her actions.

Curiosity.

It was one of Khori's greatest vices, and while it had been benevolently tolerated when she was a child, her various masters over the past few years had little patience for her inquisitive nature. And more often than not, a horrible beating followed by seemingly endless days of deprivation would adequately curb her impulse to learn more.

It was what drove her to learn more about her enemies, and she had clandestinely recorded her observations, analyzing any weakness in each warrior so they could be easily defeated if the time came. She hid in the gardens at night, and had used the lush foliage as cover so she could easily observe the scorned and demoted warrior's hurried activities, reporting to Lady Dareejah their every move.

Since her acquisition, freedom came in various forms with the lady, and the change had been gladly welcomed; Khori eagerly took advantage of her new mistress' lapse in control. She had explored her surroundings while Lady Dareejah seemed to be more concerned about reading old manuscripts and books than the whereabouts of one of her slaves. And on silent feet she had crept through the various gardens and courtyards, chambers and solariums, acutely aware that the entire kingdom was steeped in sorrow over the catastrophic events several days ago.

Khori had been surprisingly content in her new position, and as the city around her had erupted in grief and chaos, she remained a shadow – always observing, always absorbing, and storing away the facts for future reference. She had been quite prepared to remain unobtrusive and fade from Lady Dareejah's notice, eventually escaping to the outside in one last desperate bid for freedom.

Until the good lady had need of her services for a new assignment and had ordered her compliance two nights ago. Like the excellent hunter that she was, Khori had ferreted out certain facts regarding the death of the king and his cousin, but had wisely given Lady Dareejah a small portion of the news. Self preservation made her keep the full details to herself for later use, and as the day had passed, Khori had foolishly deliberated over that choice.

Before making her decision and needing her own confirmation, Khori had chosen her weapons carefully before slipping out into the cool night air, feeling confident that she held the advantage. On silent feet she had navigated the narrow pathways of one of the larger gardens, and had unexpectedly stumbled across a small group of warriors gathered near the garden's exit.

Instantly she had recognized Honored Second Rushdi and had secretly admired the warrior for his skill and prowess in battle, having learned about him from reading various manuscripts and her observations. She had swiftly scaled the nearest tree with the thickest cover and once settled, she cautiously observed them as they cleared out a small section of greenery, revealing an ancient looking door covered with emerald green moss.

Curiosity was what propelled her to stay and try to determine why they were acting so suspiciously. And it was her cursed curiosity about the Medjai, mainly the honor bound warriors, that drove Khori to move closer so she could inconspicuously observe the warrior who had effortlessly captured her imagination.

The battle was over in minutes and the grisly specters hovered over their victims, their unearthly hands moving over the bodies in a macabre parody of a caress. Khori slowly moved down the limb to gain a better view, and to better understand why they lingered after so easily won a victory. She landed lightly on the ground and crouched down, her body tense and ready to spring away to safety if need be. She still had her darrod-aj but after what she had witnessed, it would be useless against this kind of foe.

Cautiously she moved forward, and darted behind another tree for concealment as her instincts screamed out a warning. Something sinister was happening and the fine hairs on the back of Khori's neck stood up in response as chills raced down her spine. She melted back into the shadows and waited, watching the area with the unblinking eye of a predator.

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**_Meanwhile at the Southern section of the Garden  
The Guardians Citadel "Il _****_Wasi_****_Qal'a_****_"_**

"Where is my husband? Why are we in this wagon and most importantly of all, why are we sneaking out of the citadel at night?"

Nabil inwardly cringed from the tearful tone in Ralon's wife's voice and he gripped the reins a little tighter, urging the horses into a brisk trot down the garden walkway. He glanced over his shoulder at the healer, Raphael Abdul-Nassir, and felt a moment of compassion for the man, wondering if he would supply the answers so desperately needed or wait until they were safely outside the citadel before breaking the news.

"Ya sitti Bay, for your sake as well as your unborn child's, you must try to rest," Raphael soothed as he caught Nabil's glance while he folded a blanket, and then placed it behind to cushion what he surmised was her already sore back. He sat back and marveled for a moment that Tina Gordon-Bay was not what he had expected her to be – she was not crying hysterically. She was not irrational and up until this point, she had been anything but demanding.

Tina snorted and rolled her eyes at Raphael. "Rest? How can I possibly rest when no one wants to tell me where Ralon is, or why I haven't been able to speak to Ardeth for that matter?" She stopped and sighed deeply, instinctively curling her hands protectively over her protruding stomach with a wan smile. Her child was quiet this night but then again, considering the stress from the journey to the citadel and her arrival only a day ago that was met with cool indifference, she was glad one of them was able to rest.

"You must try to save your strength if you can during the journey," Raphael said with a slight smile, intrigued that so far she had yet to utter a word of complaint, despite the chilly reception yesterday and vague answers to her repeated questions about her husband. "And I promise you all of your questions will be answered in due time."

Tina boldly stared at the healer sitting across from her and had to grudgingly admit that he was a handsome and enigmatic young man; too mysterious for her tastes and she felt a pang of loneliness race through her heart. She missed Ralon very much. And the desire to see him again so they could be together for the birth of their first child had prompted her to accept the invitation to the citadel extended by the small patrol of warriors that had appeared in front of her home a few days ago. "Do you promise, healer?" she asked softly, earnestly searching his face.

"Aiwa, I give you my word," Raphael finally replied after a few moments of silence as the wagon lumbered along. Nabil was taking them to the northeast section of the garden that led to a passage out of the city in an effort to keep Tina's departure a secret. There they would meet with a small group of warriors, led by Dharr, who had bravely lingered in their beloved city, hoping to obtain a meeting with the Elders. They had wanted to proclaim their innocence of the charges Lady Dareejah had filed against them for the murder of Ralon and Ardeth Bay.

Raphael had a disturbing feeling that all had not gone well, and removing Tina from danger as well as vacating the city, seemed like the best, if not disheartening, plan. Much had transpired in his absence and for a moment Raphael felt guilty for not being able to serve his king and his people as his oath mandated. Perhaps if he had been with Ardeth and Ralon that night…if he had been able to dissuade Lady Dareejah from her dangerous course of action…if only he could have been there to save his king instead of going on an unexpected sabbatical.

"So is it true then?" Tina boldly asked as she recalled the numerous stories she had heard, prior to her departure, about the puzzling healer. The gossipers of her village had said that Raphael had mysteriously disappeared from the citadel a few weeks ago, and the popular consensus had been that the notorious Lady Dareejah had finally found a way to eliminate one more opponent. To further fuel speculation, the various search parties that had been sent out by Ardeth had returned unsuccessful in finding the healer. "They say that you have this power…a gift that had been lost to the Medjai for thousands of years…oh, what did they call it?"

"The dahab Hass or Golden Touch," Raphael answered quietly, feeling slightly uncomfortable about the topic of conversation. He glanced at the broad back of the commander as the wagon slowly traveled around a curve in the path, and then back at Tina as he wrestled with an internal turmoil since lessons from the past had proved that most sought to exploit him for his power rather than praise him. "And surely you know that the tribal or village gossip mongers like to tell tall tales, ya sitti, especially when it involves a legend coming to life. Forgive me if I disappoint you but I am simply a man who wishes to help ease suffering, heal the sick, and tend to the wounded."

"Then perhaps you are destined for greater things, and your gift may yet appear," Tina replied, wishing to impart some encouragement as she pointed to the tattoo near Raphael's left eye. "And I know having you close as my time draws near is a great comfort and for that, both Ralon and I are most grateful. Shukran."

Raphael silently acknowledged Tina's appreciation with a nod, but felt uncertain with what seemed to be her blind trust and faith in his abilities. His own confidence had been shaken by the current upheaval within the kingdom and he had to wonder if the change within him had been in reaction to those tragic events.

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The occupants of the wagon fell silent as Nabil, who had been a quiet and empathetic observer to the conversation, slowly brought the cart to halt. He expertly pulled back on the reins to control the suddenly nervous horses as his gaze swept over the area and his hand dropped to rest on the hilt of his scimitar. "Something is…coming," he murmured.

"What is it? What is wrong?" Raphael asked as he stood up and looked over Nabil's shoulder. He glanced at the warrior and his gaze skimmed over Nabil's rigid stance and intent surveillance of the garden as if he were expecting the enemy to suddenly attack. He was about to return to Tina's side when something caught his eye. "There, near the stone bench! Do you see?"

"I see," Nabil replied brusquely as thick tendrils of a mist seeped through the foliage, its long serpentine-like fingers reaching for those he had sworn to protect. He had little to choose from in the form of confrontations, and as the vapors grew steadily larger, he slapped the reins and urged the already panicked horses into flight.

"What are you doing?" Raphael shouted over the wind as the wagon careened down the path.

Nabil slapped the reins again when the horses faltered and the frustrated screams of the enemy echoed through the night. "Buying us time," he shouted back and turned partially around to address Raphael. "No matter what happens, Lady Bay's safety is our primary concern, healer! Do you understand? She must leave the citadel tonight or all will be lost!"

"What about you?" Raphael asked as he clung to one side of the wagon, his heart racing in his chest as he felt a current of cold air hit his body.

"I am of no concern! Swear on your oath, Raphael, now!" Nabil shouted. He pulled back hard on the reins when they had reached the clearing near the doorway and had trouble controlling the skittish horses. He stood up and almost lost his balance as the horses lunged against the harness, but he managed to pull his weapon free. He raised his scimitar and looked around at the surrounding lawn, discovering it was littered with strange looking white objects. A blast of cold air surrounded his body and that served as his only warning; Nabil jumped down from the wagon and spun around, expecting his opponent to attack.

Instead he found the body, or what was left of one, of Dharr's warriors, its features and appendages frozen in an eternal expression of horror and agony.

Nabil's last and instantaneous response was to raise his scimitar to defend himself, but realized too late that the Soulless Ones were impervious to the taste of steel. He fell to his knees as they swarmed over him, and he gritted his teeth against their cold, cruel invasion of his body. He dimly heard Raphael shouting his name as he struggled to keep fighting; it was no use and over in a matter of moments.

Raphael whispered a prayer for salvation when Nabil finally collapsed and when he looked up, he found most of the Soulless Ones were hovering in front of him, their black eyes seemingly focused on Tina who hid behind him. And when they reached for her, as if to feed from the light within her soul, a light enhanced by the babe she carried, a babe who was of the blood, he reacted without thought, and without hesitation.

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Khori crawled across the surprisingly wet grass until she was only a few feet away from Dharr, each breath uttering a curse against her stupidity, against her violation of her own oath regarding her involvement with the Medjai and berating her dormant woman's heart. It was this unexpected sentimentality that had prompted her to move away from her hiding place, and see if she could help the stricken warrior.

Foolish at it was, she was inches away from touching him when she heard a roar of fury and looked up to see a blinding flash of golden light erupt from the hands of a man battling the apparitions.

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"You…will…not…have her!" Raphael bellowed as he felt his power surge and he raised his hands as it flowed from his body in great arcs of light. "You will not…have any of them! Begone succubus! Leave this place and return to the one who has called you forth, for I command it!"

The Soulless Ones tried to retaliate and their furious shrieks were mingled with fear as a large wall of light sped towards them, covering everything in its path with its healing glow. Unable to withstand the purity that it brought, and the truth that it revealed, the insubstantial and ghostly flesh of the shamed men started breaking off and dissolving, returning to the one who had commanded them.

Raphael snarled and unleashed the full extent of his power, reveling for a moment in the feel of it as it blanketed those who had so bravely fallen. And the darkness that dwelled within the recesses of his mind crept forward, whispering insidiously to him, coaxing him to set his power free. It would be so easy to do and the rewards would be greater than the kingdom of the Medjai, it would be all the riches and kingdoms of two worlds…

"La! You do not…control me!" With an anguished cry, Raphael fought and won control of his gift that was also a curse and gradually the light subsided. It slowly, gently faded until all that was left was the halo of gold that surrounded the healer as he closed his eyes, swaying on his feet.

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Khori was stunned into silence by the miracle she had just witnessed and she was tempted to return to her hiding place in order to gain some time to process everything. And she was puzzled by her reluctance to leave the warrior Dharr in such a vulnerable state; his clothing was damp and his body was violently shivering.

As if sensing her scrutiny, Dharr's eyes fluttered opened and he stared at Khori in confusion as he wrapped his arms around his torso. He was resting on one side, his weapon lying a few inches away, and he watched as she immediately reached out, pushing the scimitar back to him. "For my people, the honorable way to die was with your weapon in your hand, not by an ambush," she whispered.

Dharr blinked in surprise from her actions, but he reached out with one shaking hand, and sighed when it closed over the familiar texture of his scimitar's hilt. He stared at Khori as she quietly crawled backwards and he tried to speak, but the words that came out were harsh and guttural. "La…instanZar…wait…" he croaked.

Khori shook her head as she melted back into the shadows but she knew that in the long hours of the nights to come, the look of gratitude in Dharr's unusually colored eyes would remain with her until dawn. And that was enough for now.

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Dareejah had no time to scream.

Something far more powerful than what she could have ever imagined had returned the Soulless Ones, and the backlash nearly destroyed the room. As the otherworldly storm blasted through the large floor to ceiling windows, she stumbled over to her writing table and held on.

Howling winds buffeted the windows of her chamber and swept into the room, rattling furniture and shaking the table until the mask shards danced off the edge, falling to the ground. She tried to catch the pieces but when the ghosts had arrived in an angry seething mass, she made the mistake of standing up, and received the full brunt of the surge.

It dealt a harsh blow to her chest and flung her body backwards, tumbling it feet over head until she came to a breathless stop against the platform for her bed. Dareejah was unable to move, and in mute horror mingled with fascination, she watched as the undead swirled about the ravaged room before finally returning to the shards.

Abruptly the wind died down as a thousand voices ceased their wailing and all that was left was an eerie silence. Dareejah felt something tickle the side of her face and she reached up to touch it; when she brought her hand down, she stared at the blood staining her fingers in disbelief.

And then she did scream before she fainted.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Four miles from the Ruins of Foreign Legion Fort Reliance **_

**_near the deserted town of _****_Balad_****_ min _****_Amal_****_ Town of Hope_**

_**Early morning**_

Raphael's head hurt, and his hands were shaking as his body reacted to the power it had unleashed earlier that night but his primary concern wasn't focused on his own aches and pains, but on those of his passengers.

With the adrenalin still pumping through his blood from his victory over the darkness, both internal and contained within the Soulless Ones, he had somehow managed to get Nabil and Dharr into the wagon, but it had taken an interminable amount of precious time. Both warriors were still recovering from the healing, and he regretted that he had been unable to ease their tremors or offer them more than a few short reassurances that all was well.

Stoically both warriors endured the wild fluctuation of their body temperature as they both huddled on the wagon's floor, their robes and hair damp from the chilling touch of the undead. Tina had surprised Raphael with her calm acceptance and soothing demeanor as she took command over Nabil and Dharr's welfare as he drove the wagon out of the city. And she had graciously covered both warriors with her extra blankets despite their weak protests.

Eventually, exhaustion won a victory over the need to stay conscious and only when both Nabil and Dharr were asleep did Tina finally question Raphael, her first casually asked question catching him off guard. She was resting on a small cushion made from his robes and sat near the back of the wagon seat, idly staring at the changing night sky as dawn was slowly approaching.

"Will they be all right?"

Raphael shifted on the hard wooden seat and clicked encouragingly to the tired horses as he pondered his reply. Unsure what to say since it would either incriminate or exonerate him, he opted for as few words as possible. "Eventually, aiwa."

Tina almost chuckled from the vague answer but she remained undeterred, her journalism business background coming to the surface despite her lengthy absence from it. "So, do you wish to comment on what happened earlier, or would you like to deny once again that you hold no such power as the Golden Touch?"

"I do not suppose that requesting to remain silent in regards to my battle with the Soulless Ones would be considered?" Raphael asked, feeling defeated that his efforts to remain undetected to Ralon's wife had failed miserably.

"I could consider it, but nothing will erase the images from my mind, both horrific and miraculous," Tina replied with a sigh and shivered from the memories, her hands splaying protectively across her stomach. "You saved my life," she added in a whisper. "They were trying to get to me, but you stopped them. It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life and you are the most…"

"I am only a man." Raphael stopped Tina's words with a wave of his hand, embarrassed by her accolades. "And I reacted to a situation without regard for the consequences."

"Thank God you reacted because if you hadn't, I would be dead right now," Tina argued and waved a hand over the two sleeping warriors. "They would be dead right now, and from what I saw that happened to the other warriors it is a fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

"I could not save them all," Raphael whispered, his voice tinged with anguish and regret as he studied his hands that held the reins.

Six simple words that conveyed to Tina more depth about the healer than any other explanation that Raphael could offer; she allowed the conversation to end for the moment, granting Raphael a slight reprieve from her questions. But as the wagon neared what appeared to be the ruins of an old fort, she did have to ask one more.

"So how are you going to explain why Nabil and Dharr's robes are wet?"

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_**Dawn the next day…**_

**_The Guardians Citadel "Il _****_Wasi_****_Qal'a_****_"_**

**_Lady _****_Dareejah's_****_ private solarium_**

Mirrianna Yusriyah wrinkled her nose as the pungent odor from the assassin's body wafted around her, offending her delicate sensibilities. She partially covered her face with a small veil and glared at the other young woman who seemed to be oblivious regarding her current state of cleanliness. "You could have at least washed the filth from your body before presenting yourself to my lady," she firmly stated as she hovered over Dareejah's inert body in the huge bed. She even fanned her veil slightly when the smell grew too strong, glaring at the other woman.

Khori blinked and then did something she had rarely done over the past several years of her life-she smiled. It started out as a small, self conscious grin but it gradually grew into a full smile as the absurdity of the current situation seemed quite amusing. "_Your_ lady isn't aware of anything at the moment, least of all how I smell. And besides, my lady had requested that I immediately present myself with any news, so…" Khori's dark eyes twinkled with mirth. "I bring news."

"You stink like a pig," Mirrianna snapped and began to vigorously fan her veil.

Khori placed her hands on her hips as her dark gaze raked over the handmaiden's perfectly clothed, perfumed, and coiffed appearance. "You should experience what a warrior smells like," she murmured coyly and smirked at the other woman. " It's a heady mixture of spices, of orange and mint, and when you're so close you can smell…" Khori paused dramatically and then continued with a devilish glint in her eyes. "Obviously I was so overcome with my enthusiasm for a task completed that I neglected my personal needs in my haste to come here. Surely you understand, since you are always trying to appease our dear lady Dareejah."

Mirrianna haughtily gazed at the assassin over one shoulder as she glided over to a small table for a jar of healing ointment. "What I do is not a concern of yours, and if you wish to stay gainfully employed by the lady, you would do well to remember this," she said as she walked back to the platform, her dark eyes snapping with anger. "I am Medjai - you are not. You are in my land, my kingdom and have to obey _my_ lady until you have outlived your usefulness. Continue to speak so disrespectfully to me, and I shall personally see to it that your little contract with Dareejah is prematurely terminated."

Khori arched an eyebrow at the little handmaiden's outburst, and she took a step closer, staring at her prey with the unblinking eye of a predator. "Choose your words carefully, _bouchen (bitch)_, for they may be your last," she stated softly as her hand came to rest on the hilt of her short sword.

"You do not frighten me," Mirrianna said with a toss of her head in a show of bravado.

Khori leaned close as a cold and merciless smile crept across her face. "Liar," she whispered, drawing out the word and she watched with an odd sense of satisfaction when Mirrianna's eyes widened in alarm. "Now be a good handmaiden and when our dear lady awakens from her slumber, please inform her that I wish to see her. Meanwhile, I am going to take the liberty of using the adjacent bathing quarters that I have heard so much about. Apparently I am in need of a bath."

Khori smiled for the second time that day when she heard the other woman sputtering as she walked away.

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_**Early morning hours of the same day**_

_**Ruins of Foreign Legion Fort Reliance**_

_**Soldiers quarters – south wing**_

_They were suffering_…and he could feel every wave of agony that rolled off their glistening bodies as they writhed on the pallets in front of him.

_They were warriors_…but because of the poison ravaging their bodies, they had been reduced to pale shadows of their former selves.

_They were dying_…and the other warriors present in the room now looked to him with clear expectations thanks to the astonishing reports made by Lady Bay, Nabil, and Dharr about his heroic actions the night before.

_They were in need of him_…and Raphael pushed aside his own exhaustion, his lack of confidence in his ability, and the overwhelming need to flee, to run away as far and as fast as he could, away from all that was anticipated of him, and demanded of him…until there was no strength left in his body or legs. And then he could finally collapse into the waiting arms of sweet oblivion, and dream of a time when all that was required of him to heal was to use the more conventional methods and practices.

"Are you certain you wish to do this, Healer?"

Kedar's deep voice pulled Raphael from his thoughts and he glanced up, noting that the usually forbidding looking warrior's expression had drastically changed, his dark gaze focused on his best friend's battle to live. Sympathy for Kedar's obvious suffering prompted Raphael to place a comforting hand on the warrior's broad shoulder. "La, but I am left with little choice in this matter, am I not?" he replied softly.

Kedar's gaze reluctantly swung from the pallets to the healer, and he studied the other man for a few moments in silence, noting the deep lines of fatigue in Raphael's face. "There is always a choice, but the repercussions of our actions are often judged not by others but by our heart," he stated quietly. "What does your heart say?"

Raphael sighed and threaded his fingers through his tousled hair, briefly closing his eyes in surrender. He leaned his head back for a moment and took a deep breath, already focusing on the power that dwelt deeply within him. He knew the answer…he couldn't walk away and leave his king to die a horrible death…he had to do what he believed Allah had intended for him to do with his gift…he would heal those in dire need. He would fight the darkness and death, and he would be triumphant. "My heart is eager to do battle, although my body requires rest," he said and looked at Kedar as a faint smile danced across his face. "If I knew how to do one, I would even give a battle cry, although it may come out sounding rather ineffective."

Despite the present circumstances, Kedar chuckled and slapped Raphael's shoulder, almost knocking the other man over. "Leave the bellowing and battle cries to me, and just concentrate on doing what you can for them," he said.

"How? How did they manage to live for so long? If I recall correctly from what you told me, the poison they ingested should have killed them days ago and yet…" Raphael's voice trailed off as he flexed his hands and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relieve the tension.

"Ardeth and I had previously discussed the possible scenarios that might occur, and he was concerned that Dareejah would try something devious the night of her dinner party. With Ralon's knowledge and consent, he consulted with several healers prior to that day to procure his own weapon of sorts – an antidote. Preceding the dinner, they met in Ardeth's chambers and consumed what they had hoped would save them, a great risk considering they were not certain as to what type of poison Dareejah would use. It appears that Ardeth's choice was the correct one, or else he and Ralon would both be resting in the Bay family crypt right now," Kedar replied.

"The antidote has been fighting the poison but the dosage he and Ralon consumed has not been enough," Raphael surmised.

Kedar stopped Raphael from approaching the pallets just as Jericho appeared by his side. "Are you certain you can heal them?" he had to ask, his voice hoarse from the deep ache within his heart that in the end, he could still lose the man he loved like a brother – Ardeth.

Raphael's gaze skimmed from Kedar's face, the worried expression on Jericho's face, and then he turned to face the warriors, his faltering courage suddenly strengthening with each passing moment; they believed in him. All he had to do was believe in himself. "I will do what I must, but I cannot do this alone." He addressed the room as he walked over to the pallets. "I will need your assistance."

"You only have to tell us what you require, and it will be done, Healer," a warrior in the back earnestly spoke up.

Raphael had to wait for the loud chorus of agreements to die down before he could reply. "That is good," he said with a slight smile as he stood between the pallets, and knelt down so he could touch Ardeth and Ralon. "I need your faith and your prayers. I need for you to believe in me…and I will need someone to catch me when this is over, for I will not have the power to remain conscious for very long."

"I will take care of you, Healer," Nabil said as he appeared behind Raphael, and he was joined by Dharr moments later. He was once again fit and healthy, all signs of the touch of the Soulless Ones cleansed from his body from the healing.

"We can do no less," Dharr added as he stood next to Nabil, his sherry colored gaze intently focused on what Raphael was about to perform.

Raphael turned around and flashed both warriors a grateful smile as he slowly summoned his powers; he felt his heartbeat skip and then quicken, felt the blood rush through his veins, and for a few glorious moments he felt powerful…invincible. He lowered his head as his hands grew warm while the power surged forward, and moments later it arced out from his fingers like jagged bolts of lightening. "Then I shall begin," Raphael spoke, his voice several octaves lower as his eyes burned golden in color. He raised his head and gently placed his hands on each warrior's forehead as the Golden Touch poured from his body in brilliant waves of light.

Entranced, he let the power wash over Ardeth and Ralon, and it caressed their bodies like gentle waves lapping at the beach. His eyes slid shut when he felt the first taint of the poison destroying their bodies, and it felt like a dark, seething mass of evil. Like a warrior, he clenched his jaw and waded into battle as the first lines of strain appeared on his face, unaware of the reaction of those around him.

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Kedar blinked as a bright flash of light filled the room, and he shaded his eyes with his forearm, struggling to see Ardeth and Ralon through the radiant glare. When Raphael faltered for a moment, he almost gave into the need to bellow his fury, fighting to keep his temper under control.

But his anger wasn't directed at Raphael.

Kedar considered the healer's timely arrival a miracle since he saved the lives of Nabil and Dharr before vanquishing the Soulless Ones. No, his fury was directed at those responsible, namely Lady Dareejah, and if he caved into appeasing that rage, he would be a _bringer of death_, plummeting his city into a bloody civil war. Since various Helper Sects still inhabited the city, large and formidable contingents of men were now under her control and if the Warrior Sect gave the call to arms, the streets of the city would run red with blood.

All that Kedar was, and believed in, danced on the edge between redemption and extinction. And for a competent warrior such as the commander, facing the possibility of losing his loved ones and the world he has known was extremely unnerving.

"Was it wise to use Raphael's ability while his mastering of it is still in its infancy?" Jericho leaned over and asked as the healing continued. He brought up one hand to deflect another burst of light and swore softly in amazement when he saw that it was now cradling Ardeth and Ralon in its glow.

"The village seers would probably proclaim that this was all meant to be," Kedar growled and he glanced at Jericho. "I say they only tell us the possibilities of our future; we can control the outcome. And if using his power tips the scales in our favor, then so be it."

"Agreed," came Jericho's terse reply just as the other warriors began shouting encouragement for Raphael to persevere. He continued watching and softly added his own encouragement, feeling indebted to Raphael for saving Dharr.

The healer's head had sunk down, his chin resting on his chest as the room grew impossibly brighter and Kedar added his own encouragement, believing that Raphael needed to hear it coming from especially him. "Save them, Raphael, that is all I will ever ask of you. Save them both…I beg of you, ajab," Kedar chose to whisper instead.

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Tina leaned against the doorway, and cradled her protruding stomach as the tears rolled down her face. She refused to wipe them away, just as she had refused to rest, and had snuck away from her pallet and guard in the other room in order to be near her husband. She had secretly witnessed the emotional moments prior to the healing, and resisted the urge to throw herself on Raphael's mercy, begging him to save Ralon. Kedar's reasoning and unfailing devotion to Ardeth had more than adequately done the job, and once this was over, she was going to give the sweet warrior a kiss on the cheek.

"You're doing it, Raphael. Oh I knew you could," Tina whispered when the healing reached its amazing crescendo. As if in response, her son suddenly gave several healthy kicks and Tina couldn't help it – she was giddy with relief because she saw Ralon's twisting body begin to relax as he breathed normally; she started laughing.

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Raphael's battle to withdraw his power was a surprisingly easy one, and once the light receded, he sagged to his knees from exhaustion. Strong arms were immediately there to catch him and as he felt his body being carried through the air, he asked in a raspy voice, "Are…they…?"

Laughter…the happy sound of laughter echoed through the room and Raphael tried to stay awake to see who was amused, but the victor in this battle was the consuming need for sleep. As his eyes fluttered shut, it seemed his heart had joined the joviality and a soft smile blossomed across his face.

"Rest easy, Raphael," Nabil said as he and Dharr gently laid the healer on a nearby pallet. While they arranged him in a more comfortable position, Berin appeared like a silent sentinel and covered the sleeping man with a small blanket.

Nabil and Dharr exchanged surprised glances but both of them stepped back as Berin finished tucking Raphael into the pallet as if he were but a child. Nabil knew that almost losing him as a friend and blood brother, along with Dharr, had brought about some changes in Berin and the massive warrior had finally confessed them earlier that morning.

Berin had been given a brief but startling glimpse of what a possible future could be like without his blood brother. And he had quietly confided to Nabil that he was determined to be more open and responsive to others, rather than aloof and unapproachable. As the morning progressed, Nabil had learned from other warriors that it had been Berin who had orchestrated the exodus to the fort, overseeing all the numerous details with surprising ease.

Others commented to Nabil that Berin's rarely displayed wisdom and wit had been welcomed by the younger, less experienced warriors, and embraced by the older ones. And although Berin's elevated status within the Warrior Sect had made him uneasy, he had made it clear to Nabil that he still favored the company of those who knew him best.

Perhaps it was the fact that Nabil was alive, and healthy, as well as Dharr that prompted Berin to do it…or perhaps it Kedar bending down next to Ardeth's side, and grasping the hand of his friend as some of the other warriors crowded around him…or maybe it was the question and Ralon's faint answer that moved him to react.

"Who in the name of Allah is laughing?" a warrior asked.

"That…would be…my wife…" Ralon replied in a husky voice. He grunted in surprise moments later when Tina appeared by his side, and tried to hug him, despite her obvious girth. He improvised, although still weak, and gave a shuddering sigh of relief when she gave him a light kiss on the lips. She was in his arms, whispering her love and of course, still giggling in between sentences - for Ralon, this was paradise.

After watching Ralon and his wife for a moment with an unreadable expression on his face, Berin impulsively dragged Nabil and Dharr towards the pallets and in doing so, he brought them all into the circle of brotherhood and camaraderie. As one the warriors formed a protective ring around their king and his cousin, and as one they looked to Berin for a certain signal…

…and as one, on Berin's silent command, they all dropped to one knee and paid homage, bowing their heads in respect.

Kedar stood up, tall and imposing, immediately commanding everyone's attention. He looked at each warrior with pride and then raised a fist into the air, bellowing, "The King lives! Long live the King! Long live Ralon! Praise be to Allah!"

_A/N-did anyone else get goosebumps after reading that? I did. LOL Thanks for reading...!_


	12. Chapter 12

**The Other Side – Part 12**

_**Later that morning**_

**_The Guardians Citadel "Il _****_Wasi_****_Qal'a_****_"_**

**_Lady _****_Dareejah's_****_ private solarium_**

Amidst the ruins of her room, she sat in the darkest corner, shunning the bright ribbons of sunlight that streamed through the fragmented glass windows. Uncontrollable sobs racked her thin body as she rocked back and forth, her clothing dirty and disheveled as if she had lost complete interest in presenting herself at the queen she imagined herself to be. At her feet lay the wrinkled parchment announcing the Elder's decree, and alongside of it the impersonal note from Thias inscribed with one word that had earlier sent Dareejah into a fit of rage.

"_Checkmate."_

Furiously she scrubbed away the tears from her face, only to have them fall anew as she digested the bitter taste of Thias' betrayal. The first paragraph explaining in great detail of her departure from the kingdom had wounded her far better than any thrust from a blade, and knowing her old lover was responsible for this unforeseen maneuver by the Elder's wrought forth a scream of sorrow mingled with rage.

Through her various spies throughout the court, Dareejah had recently learned that Thias had done what Dareejah believed he would have never done – he had somehow managed to convince the Elders that he was innocent of any crimes, and had boldly proclaimed himself as the victim, claiming Dareejah had cleverly manipulated him, as well as the Elders, into doing her bidding.

He had touted himself as the savior, the willing sacrificial lamb, in an attempt to control Dareejah, and to stop the rebellion she was planning against the Elders and the remaining loyalists to the deceased king. Thias had even managed to gain sympathy from a bruise he sported on his forearm, claiming that Dareejah had attacked him in a fit of rage when he attempted to retrieve the mask shards.

Thias had played his part well, and whereas Dareejah had hoped he would act as a barrier between her and the Elders, now he was an encumbrance …and one that needed to be permanently removed.

"Lies…all lies," she hiccupped as her tears subsided. She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, and squared her shoulders as her mind whirled with devilish plans and ways to outmaneuver all of those she considered her enemies now. The main citadel would become a battleground, and Dareejah was more than willing to destroy it in order to gain control of the city, and ultimately of the kingdom.

She slowly pushed up to her feet, her long, filthy dressing gown hanging in tatters that swept across the dirty floor as she walked over to the table. She brushed the surface clean and then whirled around, sinking to the ground and feverishly sifted through the debris until she found the manuscript. With a childish crow of delight, she jumped up and lovingly placed it on the table, opening it and skimming page after page for the precise paragraph that she needed.

Dareejah bent over the page since the words were hard to read in this dimly lit section of the room, and a few strands of long, stringy hair tumbled forward like a shredded veil over her thin shoulder. Her lips moved silently as she read the passage, her dark eyes frantically searching for the one incantation she needed as she trailed one ragged nail down the length of the page until…

"Ahhh," she breathed in wicked delight. She marked the section with a smudge of dirt, and then reverently reached for the bag of shards, taking great care not to lose the place in the book. "Thias will not outwit me," she muttered as she spilled forth the shards, her eyes now hard, cold and void of any emotion. "Thias will not win…he will not win." She spread them across the table's surface and gasped when the sharp edge of one nicked her fingertip. She wiped the blood off on her gown, and resumed reading the passage, too preoccupied to notice how quickly the blood had been absorbed into the stone.

Her former lover's treachery had thoroughly surprised Dareejah, and she had arrogantly believed that Thias' love for her would bind them in an unholy union – she would command, he would blindly obey. But as she danced along the edge between sanity and madness, Thias' actions fueled her anger at being denied what she thought was rightfully hers – the power to rule a kingdom. And as she planned her revenge, the hate in her slowly dying heart lessened as she prepared for another spell, occasionally muttering in anger as she recalled fragments from the Elder's message.

"_Sanity is questionable...ability to rationalize impaired…events brought to our attention by Counselor __Thias__ have made us quite concerned…loyalty doubtful…further deliberation required…all present requests and petitions denied until a tribunal can be scheduled…cease and desist all actions regarding the improper use of the mask shards of __Iret-iruw__ at once or risk being detained…are accused of being a traitor to the king and to the kingdom…will wait until sunset for your response…"_

Like a petulant child that had been reprimanded by its parents, Dareejah now planned the last stages of her rebellion against the Elders in her quest for power, and to be named queen of the Medjai. She preferred death as an option rather than vacate her sumptuous quarters that were befitting for someone of her rank and social standing. And with the Soulless Ones at her disposal, anything could be achieved.

Satisfied that she had made her plans well, Dareejah summoned the ghosts who were eternally compelled to do her bidding, and as she felt the surge of power flow through her body, her black hair slowly turned white as the warmth left in her body was depleted.

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_**Morning of the same day**_

_**Ruins of Foreign Legion Fort Reliance **_

**_near_****_ the deserted town of _****_Balad_****_ min _****_Amal_****_ Town of Hope_**

The warriors came for Cecelia and Jamie before they had a chance to finish their meager breakfast.

Suddenly the door to their cell flew open with such force that it crashed against the opposite wall with a resounding thud, and a few pieces of mortar crumbled to the ground.

Cecelia scrambled to her feet first, sputtering in surprise, and then demanded to know what was going on even as two veiled warriors grabbed her gently but firmly by the arms. Like black robed wraiths, they ignored her chattering and escorted her from the cell, practically propelling her down the dusty hallway that led towards an open courtyard.

"Wait…wait! Where are you taking us?" Cecelia twisted around and managed to glance over her shoulder to check on her friend, and saw that Jamie's feet were barely touching the dirt; her warrior escort was almost lifting her off the ground. And Cecelia found her first tentative smile of the day as she heard Jamie verbally blistering both warriors for their carelessness in handling her, even going so far as to predict the size and color of the bruises that would appear on her arms.

The only emotion the disguised warriors displayed was caught by the women once they reached the doorway and had stopped for a moment.

"Intu itmatta fataH il bab ktir qasi, aiwa?" one of the warriors muttered to another standing behind him. (You enjoyed opening the door very hard, yes?)

"Aiwa," came the simple reply and when Cecelia looked back at him, she saw above his face covering that his dark eyes were twinkling with mirth.

The first warrior shook his head and gave a signal. The women were abruptly released and again, gently pushed out into the courtyard and into the blinding morning sun. Before either Cecelia or Jamie could react, the way back was barred by an old wooden door that was forcefully shut with another resounding thud.

"Well, it looks like this is our new morning exercise," Jamie muttered as she held up a hand to shade her eyes. She looked around the yard and spotted a small grouping of trees situated off to one side, nestled in a sparse patch of grass, offering a small spot of shade. "C'mon, let's get out of the sun before my nose turns red."

"This place is like a ghost town," Cecelia commented as they started walking. She glanced up at the top of the walls and almost stumbled when she saw dozens of warriors lined up, watching their progress. She pulled on Jamie's sleeve to get her attention. "Hey, forget I said that, and just casually look up at the walls."

"Why?"

"Because I want you to see something."

"Is it Sharif bringing me a glass of iced tea?"

Cecelia inwardly groaned from Jamie's pitiful lapse of awareness. "Will you please look to your right?"

"Casually, right? Okay, I'll play…let me look, but if it's not a mirage of Sharif with that iced tea, I'm gonna be pissed." Jamie quipped. She raised her eyes and then stumbled, saved from falling flat on her face by Cecelia's quick reflexes. "Oh my God," she gasped.

"Somehow I don't think they're a mirage," Cecelia murmured as they neared the grouping of trees.

"This is too spooky," Jamie whispered as she reached down and clung to Cecelia's hand.

"You're telling me," Cecelia whispered back.

When Cecelia and Jamie finally reached the trees, they were astonished to see an enormous warrior emerge from hiding and boldly walk out to meet them, his identity hidden by his face covering. The only feature visible was his golden eyes, and they narrowed slightly as his gaze swept over their disheveled appearances; he folded his arms across his broad chest and waited until the wary looking women had stopped in front of him before addressing them.

"Sallim 'ala wa Taiyib SubH," he said in a deep, raspy voice and gave a slight bow. When he straightened, his gaze softened slightly when he saw their confusion and he hastily added on the translation. "Greetings and good morning."

"Same to you," Cecelia replied and suddenly felt small and inadequate as she tilted her head back to stare at the warrior. Nervous butterflies erupted in her stomach, and as they flittered around, she clasped her hands to stop their trembling as the realization came to her: he was here to tell them something important. And perhaps he was going to finally end their exile, and take them back to Eric and Zayn, or better yet – Ardeth and Sharif.

"Who are you and why are you here?" Jamie blurted out and instantly she regretted her impulsive words when the warrior's eyes widened a little in surprise.

Zaki Hisham coughed to hide his chuckle of amusement as he recalled his saHib Sharif's warning that Jamie was a beautiful but very outspoken young woman. He quickly composed himself, and reached into a deep pocket in his robe, pulling out a rolled piece of parchment, aware that his actions were being keenly observed by his audience. "I am here to teach you," he explained.

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He moved slowly down the hallway, using the wall as a support and half listened to the warrior behind him scolding him for his premature escape from his pallet. He kept his dark eyes focused on the path ahead, very aware that his body was shaking so much that his teeth were chattering; it mattered not. Any discomfort he currently felt would be gone by nightfall, thanks to the healer, and now all that concerned him was finding the woman…he knew she was here…and her heart had been calling to him…always calling for him.

"You are more stubborn than a camel."

He grunted and continued shuffling, his concentration centered on keeping his legs moving.

"How about as obstinate as an ox or a mule? I am uncertain as to what amazes me more – your inability to obey Raphael's strict orders to rest, or the fact that you have managed to put your robe on inside out."

Ardeth smiled at that and then glanced down, grimacing when he realized his childhood friend was right. But it didn't matter either-he could be wearing rags or a robe made of the finest silk; clothes were not a primary concern and he continued walking, feeling his strength return with each step. "I am doing…what I need to do the most, Kedar. I can no longer lie in my bed, and helplessly hear about my warriors being killed and watch my kingdom slowly being destroyed by a sheTan mara devil woman. It is time I act."

"Act more like a besotted fool if you ask me," Kedar sighed and reached out, gently gripping Ardeth's upper arm when the warrior suddenly faltered. "Sahil, sahil," he whispered as he let Ardeth lean into him. "You are doing too much too soon. Surely this woman can wait until you are stronger and after you have attended to the business regarding the kingd …"

Ardeth shook his head and pushed away from Kedar, clenching his jaw as he continued walking. "She has waited long enough, and so have I," he stated quietly.

Kedar shook his head, and followed after Ardeth, once again offering his aid so that his chieftain could make it to his destination. "I do not suppose getting Berin to sit on you would make any difference?" he asked hopefully.

Ardeth shook his head, unable to spare the words as the door loomed near. His heartbeat sped up in anticipation - she was just across the courtyard with her friend Jamie and Zaki. And suddenly he had to resist the urge to smooth down his unruly hair and ask Kedar if his appearance was suitable.

"I thought not," Kedar snorted. He released Ardeth's arm, and rushed forward to open the door as shafts of bright sunlight spilled into the cool dark hallway. "Never let it be said that I stood in the way of you meeting your destiny."

As Ardeth murmured his thanks and tried to pass by Kedar, the commander reached out and gently snagged his arm, his dark eyes intently searching Ardeth's face. "Are you certain about this?" he asked softly. "In all of the time we have known one another, I have never seen you this…"

"Say it, ya ukh. I do not mind hearing it."

"Obsessed." The word came out in a low growl and Kedar actually cringed when his voice echoed down the long empty corridor.

Ardeth stood in the doorway, his gaze skimming over the grounds until he finally saw her…Cecelia stood with Jamie and appeared to be captivated by what Zaki was saying, but her actions were a contradiction. She was playfully swatting Jamie's backside, making her friend jump and giggle, much to Zaki's frustration Ardeth was sure.

Aware that Kedar was now standing by his side, still lending his strength and support, Ardeth suddenly felt the need to ask, "Have you advised Jericho to release Sharif?"

"Aiwa, and Jericho said that Sharif almost ran Makin over in his eagerness to see Jamie," Kedar replied with a slight smile, knowing that it was nearly impossible to knock the massive young warrior off his feet. "Even as we speak, he should be…"

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"You will become part of the Medjai, and in doing so, you will forsake all comforts and conveniences from your world." Zaki read from the parchment, and struggled to keep from laughing. The women were hardly paying any attention to the somewhat dull set of laws he had been advised to read to them, and he could hardly blame them. He could only surmise how their temporary imprisonment may have affected them, and believed they were merely happy to be out of their cell, and in the fresh air.

He smiled again when he heard their slightly nervous laughter. Zaki shook the parchment as he exaggerated clearing his throat, his gaze skipping back and forth between the fidgeting women. He started reading again knowing that he held their attention for another few blessed moments. "You will not divulge any financial or military knowledge from your world. You will not reveal any medical knowledge or alter the methods that the healers of the Medjai have employed for thousands of years. You will obey the elders of your village and respect all Medjai, just as the same courtesy will be extended to you. You will be expected to maintain a home for your warrior, or if you are living with a host family, you will participate in completing the household chores. You will…"

"Um, excuse me Mr. Warrior, sir?"

Zaki stopped reading and blinked at being addressed so oddly. He looked down at Cecelia, and wasn't surprised that she had finally found the courage to interrupt. "Aiwa? What is it?" he patiently asked.

Cecelia jumped when Jamie's hand swatted her backside but she somehow managed to maintain a serene expression on her face, despite the giggles that were erupting from behind Jamie's hand. "You said host family; who's getting that?"

Zaki's gaze dropped down to the parchment as he hesitated in answering the question, uncertain on how much to disclose. He was about to reply when a shout came from behind the women.

"Jamie!"

"Sharif?" Jamie gasped and spun around as her hand immediately reached for Cecelia's, needing the support from her best friend. Her gaze greedily drank in Sharif's appearance as he slowly walked towards them and she almost started crying from happiness. He looked well rested, strong, and incredibly handsome. He was wearing his robes and weapons, dressed as if he were prepared for battle and Jamie felt a shiver of delight race down her spine. "Oh…oh…Cece," she whispered as Sharif came closer.

"Wow," Cecelia whispered back, so very glad for her friend. "He looks…great."

"Oh….oh…" was all Jamie could say, over and over as she fought not to cry.

"Go to him," a hoarse voice gently instructed in Jamie's ear. "He has been waiting for this day since his return, and has gone through much to be reunited with you."

Jamie glanced up at Zaki bent over her shoulder and then looked back at Sharif. "What do you mean about him going through much?" she asked.

Zaki smiled when Sharif stopped walking several yards away, the look of uncertainty on his face most unusual. "He appealed to our chieftain for a pardon for your friend Eric, and commended Traveler Zayn on a successful mission in returning him home. And prior to our hasty departure from the city, he badgered the elders to amend the regulations in allowing you to stay – Sharif wishes for you to remain and has much to tell you. I was only appointed to read the rules."

Jamie's eyes rounded with surprise. "He wants me to stay?" she squeaked.

"Well duh," Cecelia answered for Zaki and released Jamie's hand. "So what are you waiting for, you idiot? Go to him…now! Run!!!"

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_a/n__ – coming up…fluff, warm hugs and kisses abound…enjoy it while it lasts. _


	13. Chapter 13

_**The ruins of Bijan's home**_

_**Cairo, El Saiyida Zeinab District**_

_**El Sad El Barran St**_

_**The same day…1999 **_

_As the sirens wailed in the distance, heralding the pending arrival of the fire trucks, the crowd of spectators cogitated amongst themselves if there were any inhabitants still alive but buried beneath the rubble. And more importantly should they dare search for any? _

_Some neighbors claimed that they had seen at least four other people living in the home besides the detective several days ago, but when asked for details such as physical descriptions, they were unable to comply. _

_Others stated that the detective had been a polite but solitary man, rarely speaking to anyone, and they fearfully wondered what kind of enemies he could have made for them to attack in the early morning hours, and destroy his house._

_A strange paralysis gripped the crowd as they watched tendrils of gray smoke spiral up into the air, dancing on a wayward breeze that a carried to them the smell of burnt wood and charred human remains. The simplistic beauty of the day was now marred by the seemingly senseless destruction of the detective's home and car; the crowd shuffled back several feet in an effort to escape the scorching heat. _

_And then suddenly the crowd was galvanized into helping. They called for buckets of water, and someone shouted for anyone to call the police and check on the progress of the fire trucks; others organized small groups as metal buckets were disbursed and those who wished to be in charge formed the volunteers into long lines. _

_As the well meaning chaos reached its crescendo, the crowd's attention was temporarily diverted from the burning skeleton of the home when the fire trucks arrived, and no one saw the figure of a man slowly crawl away. He had been hiding near a large section of a collapsed wall, and as he painfully inched across the ground, his dark gaze remained focused on his goal – a nearby car. _

_Sirens and more shouts filled the air as the crew sprang into action, and he should have taken advantage of the diversion, but stopped, wasting precious time to turn around and look one last time at what had been his haven for the past few years._

_It was all gone now, shattered in a matter of minutes what had taken him years to accumulate. He leaned against the car, his dirty tee shirt smudged with splotches of maroon, and he absently rubbed his sore shoulder; it was dislocated from fighting one of the intruders. Dark eyes narrowed in anger when the truth of his situation dawned on him, and he clenched his jaw against the bellow of anger that was ready to spill from his lips._

_Detective Bijan Rasheed-Mudawar had been left alone to face the attack of the enemy, and like the jackals they were, they had attacked in the pre-dawn hours hoping to catch him unawares. The high tech security system that Bijan had installed two years ago had more then compensated for the fortune he had spent on installing it – the alarm had saved his life and had temporarily confused his attackers._

_Taking advantage of the confusion, Bijan had attacked, calling forth the dormant spirit of his warrior ancestors, and he had leaped into the fray giving a battle cry that would have made the Elders proud. He was brutally efficient and quick, dispatching them by any means, and exploiting any disadvantage. But their numbers were too great, and when the walls of his home became engulfed in flames, he had no choice but to retreat._

_The loss of his personal effects and home was devastating enough, but what truly made Bijan angry was the lack of support from his people; there were no other Guardians in his sector, and those that lived on the outskirts of Cairo had failed to answer his call for help._

_Either they were dead, or had been recalled back to the citadel – either scenario wasn't very comforting._

_Exhausted, Bijan lowered his head for a moment, and briefly closed his eyes as his body began reacting to the trauma and stress it had endured hours ago. Mentally he began to assess his inventory of weapons, food, and clothing; he needed to leave the city as soon as possible and drive to Captain Cohan's base camp near the triangle of power. Once there, he would seek first aid and follow the protocol set for a breach in security – when the responsibility of this was resting firmly on someone else's capable shoulders, only then would Bijan rest._

_The sound of a police siren coming dangerously close to him snapped Bijan out of his musings, and as the car sped by, he stayed low and ducked around the other side, peering out over the trunk. There was one last thing he needed to do and it was well worth the risk of his old work associates seeing him._

_Boldly Bijan hurried across the street, and ran up the narrow alleyway near the back entrance to his home, using what sparse cover there was to conceal his identity. He darted through the yard, and raced over to one corner, searching for the small storage bin he had hidden for emergencies. His handicap was not being able to use one arm, and again he wasted valuable time trying to get the bin open without revealing his presence to the fire fighters and policemen that were now sifting through the smoldering ruins. _

_Bijan smiled slightly when his hand finally grazed across the bag's straps, and keeping a wary eye on the other men, he pulled it free and dropped down to his knees, using the bin as coverage. A quick glance through the contents assured him that he would have enough supplies to reach the camp, but most importantly he had stashed several boxes of spare ammunition for emergencies._

_Slowly, Bijan willed his tired body to stand and in doing so, he was given another heart wrenching view of his home. The fire was out now, and the officials had gathered to go over the evidence and most likely count the bodies found within the home. Any remorse Bijan may have felt over the killing of the other men was quickly absolved by what he had always believed in – he was following the code of a Guardian, and part of that code was to protect the gateway no matter the cost._

_He expected there to be inquires, and puzzlement since the enemy had no identification or records of their existence in this time. Hopefully the charred bodies would give the forensic team little information, and yield little else, prompting them to eventually close the file and label it unsolved._

_As for Bijan's disappearance, it could be easily explained, but still he hated leaving behind a promising career in law enforcement. But the attack on his home had done something to him that he could have never imagined – it had made him desire to return home, and reestablish the ties that bound him to the Medjai. _

_Impulsively Bijan dropped to one knee, and drew three fingers across the dirt now muddy from the firemen's hoses. He looked up at the charred remains of his home, and despite having caught the attention of two firemen he slashed the mud across his forearm. It was the ancient sign of the Medjai, long ago adapted for this world to help wayward time travelers to find a guardian; now it would serve as a sign to his enemies._

_Bijan was still alive, and may Allah have mercy on those responsible for the attack for if he found them, he would show none. _

_---------------------------------------------------------------_

"Jamie?" Sharif called out again, uncertain as to why she hesitated in coming to him. A thousand doubts raced through his mind, ranging from he shouldn't have worn his weapons to the fear that her temporary imprisonment had changed her feelings for him. And that thought filled him with a deep sense of despair unlike he had ever felt; she was the one who had taught him to hope again. Jamie had made him believe that anything was possible for him, including reconciliation with his estranged brother, Sajid.

Jamie started walking very slowly, her eyes skimming over Sharif's appearance in silent appreciation as her heart remembered his features – his beautiful eyes, the slow tentative smile that would appear on his face, and the tender expression that was meant for her and her alone. Suddenly a nameless longing swept through her, and Jamie started running to Sharif with her arms open wide as soft sobs tumbled from her lips.

Sharif ran a few steps and then stopped, opening his arms. He playfully grunted from the impact when he caught Jamie's body moments later and held her tight, his hands splayed in the rich curtain of her hair. He closed his eyes from the incredible joy of having her once again in the strong circle of his arms. "I will never let you go, do you understand? Never," he said huskily, and then alternated between Arabic and English as he whispered endearments of love.

Jamie buried her face in the side of Sharif's neck and did something she wasn't normally prone to do – she wept.

Astonished by her behavior, Sharif leaned back and tried to look at Jamie's face, despite the fact that she seemed determined to keep it hidden in his robes. "Jamie? Why are you crying?" he asked softly as he reached out, cupped her chin, and tenderly coaxed her to look up. Trepidation raced through him, making him doubt the decisions he had made in order for her to stay and for the usually imperturbable warrior, he was suddenly at a loss on what to do. "Do you not wish to stay?" he added as the fear built in his heart.

"N-n-no…I mean yes…I mean…" Jamie stammered and hastily wiped the tears from her face, feeling slightly embarrassed. She took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is yes…I want to stay. I just was so scared when Cece and I were in that cell, and I didn't know if you were all right, and if my coming here had gotten you in trouble, and…and that's the last thing I would want to do is get you in trouble and…and…"

"Breathe for me, ya maHabbi, breathe," Sharif said with a smile in remembrance of those same words uttered to him not so long ago, simple words that had changed his life. He offered her a small linen square for her tears but his smile abruptly disappeared, however, when Jamie quickly took the cloth he offered and with a very loud and un-ladylike noise, blew her noise.

Sharif's horrified gaze darted to Zaki who seemed to be having trouble containing his composure as Cecelia was asking him questions about Ardeth. He coughed a few times, and good-naturedly explained something else to Cecelia while giving Sharif a slight nod of approval. Then a look of understanding passed between the two warriors and suddenly Sharif knew – this was going to be his life from now on - a happy whirlwind of love, of tears, of endless joy…of Jamie Richards.

"I'm so sorry," Jamie sniffled as she finished with the cloth and offered it back to Sharif. "Usually I'm not this sentimental but…"

"You are staying," Sharif firmly replied as he quickly declined taking the linen back. "You are staying with me, ya maHabbi."

A brilliant and loving smile bloomed on Jamie's face and the sparkle in her stunning green eyes almost took Sharif's breath away. Feeling bold, she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck, and shivered from the feel of his muscular tone and strength. She gazed up and deeply into his dark amber colored eyes before letting it drop to his mouth. "I can see I'm going to have to contend with a bossy warrior," she murmured as she stood up on her tiptoes.

"Shall I take that as an agreement?" Sharif murmured back as he bent his head, and gently brushed his lips across Jamie's in the sweetest of caresses. He brushed them again, and when her lips parted in silent invitation, he tenderly invaded her mouth, eager to drink his fill. He pulled her closer as he silently marveled at how well their bodies meshed together – two pieces finally becoming whole. And the warrior rose up from within him, demanding he cherish and protect her, claiming Jamie Richards for his own and for all to see.

The discreet and insistent coughing of not only Zaki but a few of the other warriors above helped Sharif regain his composure and as he slowly, gradually ended the kiss, he felt Jamie sag against him. Tenderly he stroked her face, unable to hide his wonder and joy. "Will you stay with me, Jamie Richards? Will you become one with me, united in love and honor, and unified in the eyes of Allah and of my people? You have breathed new life into my heart and soul, and for the first time I feel the blossoms of hope grow within me like the fragile leaves of a delicate flower. Stay with me, Jamie and I will treasure you for the rest of my days."

"You should really do something about that cough, warrior," Cecelia was heard teasing Zaki.

Jamie laughed and shook her head at her friend as an indescribable joy swept through her; she was on the precipice of a new life. A small tremor of fear raced through her heart at the thought of never seeing her family again, at so much change, but in her hands…no, in her arms was a chance to spend a lifetime with a man she loved more than life itself. She loved him.

Jamie loved Sharif, and suddenly it was as simple as saying, "Yes, I will stay with you, Sharif Rafee, and you had better cherish me."

Sharif actually sputtered from her reply but when he caught her teasing grin, he triumphantly raised one arm and shouted his success to the sky. His warrior brothers immediately joined in and the walls of the old fort actually shook from the sound and strength of their joy.

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Cecelia sniffled and quickly rubbed the tears from her eyes as she watched Sharif and Jamie stand in the middle of the yard as the cheers and battle cries rang through the air. She felt so many conflicting emotions, and was ashamed that the ugly green monster of jealousy reared its head among them. And for a brief moment, Cecelia wished with all her heart that she was in Jamie's place.

She had hoped that wish Ardeth would come for her since it was apparent that his warriors were stationed within the fort. She thought she had recognized a few of them lined up on the walkway when they had first walked into the yard.

She wished for so many things, and yet she remained where she was, unable to move as she felt a dull ache grip her heart. Ardeth wouldn't be coming; her dark rider had made his choice and that ache then flared up into a searing pain.

"Ya sitti Cecelia," Zaki murmured as he tapped her on her shoulder to gain her attention. The yard had grown quiet again as the warriors waited, but he wasn't certain if she even knew what was happening; her gaze remained fixed on Sharif and Jamie. "There is one more rule you must know."

Cecelia gave a tiny laugh and cleared her throat even as fresh tears filled her eyes. "And what rule would that be?" she asked sadly.

"That you will always greet me the way Jamie has greeted Sharif," a familiar voice said from behind her.

Cecelia gasped but didn't dare turn around; instead she grabbed one of Zaki's large hands and clung to him even as the world suddenly tilted. Her heart started racing and she had trouble breathing; she turned to Zaki in wide-eyed wonder and blinked when she saw that he had removed his face covering. "I think remember you," she whispered.

Zaki nodded his head. "I believe you do, but there is another who you remember more, aiwa?" he asked and when Cecelia still had trouble moving, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her around so she could see that Ardeth was standing only a few feet away.

"Oh…oh," Cecelia sobbed when she saw him, and she reached up with one hand as if she were afraid he would disappear.

Ardeth reached for Cecelia, reluctant to take to last few steps, as if he were afraid to touch her; was she real or a hallucination? He swallowed against the emotions that had swelled up from his heart, and cleared his mind, relying on the one belief that he had always known since they day they had met. He knew that their kiss had been a prelude to this moment. She was meant to be his. "Are you real? Or are you a dream that I have carried within my heart for so many days?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Fresh tears brimmed in Cecelia's eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she finally took the last few steps to reach the warrior whose shadow had been living in her heart and soul. With her hand out, she almost touched Ardeth's as she drank in the sight of him, allowing his presence to nurture her mind and body. He was real…he was alive and he was here, waiting for her to come to him. She closed the distance between them and when their hands finally met, she felt a strange sense of completion sweep through her body. "I…I am…Cecelia Adams," she whispered back with a faint smile curving her lips.

"My heart knows who you are," Ardeth replied as his finger entwined with Cecelia's. He stared at their joined hands for a moment, and then his dark gaze softened as it trailed down the curve of her face, down the delicate column of her neck, finally sweeping up to her eyes again. Instinctively he knew they had both endured much for this reunion but never before had his heart felt this way; she was the mate of his soul. "I have…waited for you," he added gently tugging on her hand. "Come to me, Cecelia."

Cecelia couldn't speak as she let the deep, resonant tones of Ardeth's voice wash over her, and it rejuvenated her spirit. She resisted the tug on her hand for a moment but his command was so compelling, an order she would never have the strength to defy.

"Come to me," Ardeth gently commanded again and released her hand, opening his arms. "Allow me to…hold you. I need this as much as I believe you do as well. I must know…."

With a soft, shuddering sigh Cecelia went into Ardeth's arms and she immediately snuggled against his robes as she felt his arms wrap around her body. She boldly rested her head against the broad planes of his chest, and was comforted by the steady beating of his heart. She felt like she had finally come home, and she almost laughed from the sheer joy of it. "Yes, we must know," she dreamily replied.

Ardeth's eyes slid closed from the sheer pleasure of finally holding Cecelia in his arms, and in that instant his mind confirmed what his heart already knew. He would never let her go again. Their fateful meeting, the searing kiss that they had shared was meant to be, and had led up to this moment in time. She would become his queen, and he would happily spend the rest of his days proving to her that the Medjai do exist. A small chuckle escaped from him as he gathered Cecelia even closer.

"Why does he hesitate? Should he not be kissing her?" Kedar asked in a loud whisper. "Has he lost his mind? He laughs instead of kissing her senseless."

"Maybe he is savoring the moment," Zaki chuckled.

"Then he is savoring the moment much differently than Sharif," Jameel noted dryly.

"Sharif is savoring Jamie again," Makin said with a laugh.

"Sharif likes to savor Jamie a lot," Solman agreed with his unerring simplicity.

Ardeth shook his head as he leaned back and tenderly coaxed Cecelia to look up at him; she had an appealing pink tint creeping across her cheeks and he couldn't help but laugh. "You know I can hear all of you, and why are you down here when I have given explicit orders for you to remain up along the walkway?"

"The view is better down here," Kedar replied and nudged Jericho, almost knocking the warrior over.

"Can I not have a few moments of privacy with Cecelia?" Ardeth asked, feeling exasperated that he and Cecelia had an audience.

"La, you cannot. Raphael has given strict orders for you to rest, and rest is what you are going to do," Kedar commanded. "Your body still needs to recover."

Cecelia's gaze skipped back and forth between Ardeth and the daunting warrior that was briskly ordering him, and she smiled again, remembering Kedar from the first night they had met. She had called him a handsome devil then, and despite his shaggy hair and whiskered face, he was still quite attractive. "Why does Ardeth need to rest?" she had to ask.

Immediately the warriors around them came closer, and Cecelia's eyes grew round with surprise as she and Ardeth were surrounded by them. All of them had removed their face coverings, and as Ardeth began playfully bantering with some of them, Cecelia's happiness grew when she recognized most of them. "I know you," she whispered to a curly haired warrior who gave her a shy smile.

"I will wager that your woman agrees that you need to rest," Kedar continued as the other warriors added their agreement.

"Why does Ardeth need to rest?" Jamie asked as she and Sharif came up to stand by another massive warrior.

"Because he was poisoned, and almost died," Solman replied.

"What? He was what?!" Cecelia asked incredulously.

"Now is not the time to discuss this," Ardeth warned Kedar under his breath.

"On that I agree. We need to adjourn inside, so the women can be out of the hot sun," Kedar said and turned to one side to allow Ardeth and Cecelia to pass by. "This way, oh mighty king."

Cecelia gasped and looked up at Ardeth as they started walking towards another door that led out of the court yard. "Y-y-you are a king?" she squeaked.

Ardeth smiled, and affectionately caressed Cecelia's face, his gaze softening. "There is much to discuss between you and I, maHabbi…much to discuss," he said.

"You ain't kidding," Cecelia quipped and glanced back at Jamie, quietly mouthing the words, 'he's a king!' much to the delight of the warriors that followed.

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_A/N - sorry for the delay in updates. I'm trying to bring about the end of this story and the beginning of the final installment...but it's taking longer than I thought, so if I've lost a few of you along the way, I apologize. _

_Oh and enjoy the sappiness while it lasts..._


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